


BONDED

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Dark, Drama, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship, Mystery, Post-Hogwarts, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-14
Updated: 2007-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 87,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: The bonds of friendship, love and family are strong, but can they survive evil, especially when that evil is coming from a familiar place?This story takes place one year after Four Days of Fantasies. While this can be enjoyed on it's own, reading FDoF may help to make sense of some information in Bonded and it would sure put a smile on my face!





	1. Chapter 1 - Not Long Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

**BONDED**

Chapter 1 -- Not Long Enough   

Depending on the circumstances, six years could be a very long time. For instance, six years in prison could feel like a lifetime, whereas six years of peace can pass in the blink of an eye.  Such was the case on this day. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, along with twenty other Aurors, stood in front of a remote farmhouse gaping at the sky. A Dark Mark like no other was burning brightly, directly over the modest home. It had been six years since anything like this had happened.  

Six years had not been long enough. 

It was with sweaty palms and anxious stomachs that Harry and Ron responded to the urgent call. Harry was reluctant to believe that it was an actual Dark Mark. He desperately hoped that he had received the message incorrectly.  Upon arrival, however, it was the first thing he saw, except this Dark Mark did not bear the sickly green tint that all others carried. This one shone bright red.  

“What do you think that means?” Ron asked, swallowing thickly yet his jaw was set firmly.  Harry simply shrugged. He was unable to speak at the moment. His mind was turning over too many questions. Voldemort was dead. He knew it. He was there when it happened. And more importantly, he had killed him! After the final Horcrux was destroyed, killing Voldemort was like killing any other wizard...any other extremely powerful, diabolically evil wizard…meaning it was a fight for his very soul, but he had succeeded.  

“Potter! Weasley! Get in here!” Harry and Ron moved immediately at the command of their Chief Auror. As if the Dark Mark itself didn’t indicate the importance of this situation, the fact that their Chief was in the field certainly did.  Harry had to close his eyes for a split second against the scene that greeted him once he stepped over the threshold. As much horror as Harry had seen throughout his lifetime, most of it through the eyes of a child he had never seen anything like this. 

Upon entering the home, they found the mutilated bodies of a man and woman.  The man lay slumped at the dinner table with a vast amount of blood pooling around him, covering the table like a sickly red tablecloth. Harry had never seen so much blood. One of the Aurors gave his wand a flick and the man’s body arched back gracefully, showing that his throat had been slit. He looked to be every bit of eighty years old and Harry thought it disgusting to use such harsh methods to do away with someone who appeared so feeble. He gritted his teeth as he and Ron moved on.  

Further into the kitchen, the woman lay on the floor, face down. Again, it looked as though she had been bled completely. Another Auror flicked her wand and the woman’s body rolled over slightly to reveal that her throat had been cut as well. She looked to be in her fifties, but it was hard to tell with the amount of blood covering her face. Harry was beyond perplexed by this. Wizards did not need to resort to such grotesque methods to murder. In fact, most wizards who would do such a thing as this would consider themselves above such messy, Muggle means of disposing of someone.  

Harry felt Ron leave his side, but he was too busy taking in everything to wonder where Ron was going. This was just bizarre. Harry crouched down by the woman, studying the position in which she lay. To fall face down as she had, the killer would have been behind her if a knife was used. He wondered if she had been trying to run away. If the killer used a wand, then the woman would have been facing her attacker. That must have been terrifying for her. Harry empathized, having had many wands pointed at him with the intent to end his life. 

 Harry flicked his wand and the woman’s body rolled over slowly until she was lying on her back. Her face was completely covered with blood making it near impossible to get a clear look at her but Harry was more concerned with her fatal wound at the moment. He leaned forward and fixed intense eyes on her slashed throat.  

“What are you looking at?” came a gruff voice from Harry’s left. He didn’t need to look up to know that it was Gunther Douglas, a fifteen year veteran of the Auror force. He was an extremely stocky man. Everything about him was thick, including his brain, Harry often thought.  

Douglas needed special order robes because his neck was as thick as most people’s waists. A hearty mop of dirty blonde hair sat upon his head and it always appeared as if he’d just stepped out of a shower and simply towel dried it. This was because he was constantly sweating, no matter how cold it was outside. Douglas thought everyone was an idiot, everyone except himself, of course.  

“Her neck,” Harry answered bluntly, still carefully surveying the wound. He saw no need to go into detail with Douglas. 

“I can see that, but why?” the older man added. Harry could tell by his tone that he was only asking because he thought Harry was wasting time. Douglas made no secret of the fact that he thought Harry, and Ron too for that matter, were _playing_ at being Aurors.  Usually Harry was good at ignoring the man, whereas Ron always managed to get into a shouting match with him. Tonight, Harry was not in the mood to deal with his condescending attitude.  

“Do you see how straight this cut is? Means it was made by a wand.” 

“Oh really, and you’re sure of that? I can’t see a _real_ wizard dealing with all this mess.” He crossed his beefy arms authoritatively, before continuing. “It had to have been a Muggle using one of their primitive weapons!” Douglas looked around him as if the very air was contaminating him. Harry had long ago suspected that the Auror bought into all that pureblood propaganda but Douglas wasn’t a total bludger head, he had never said so out loud. 

“Primitive weapons? I’d like to see you manage to get your wand out against an automatic machine gun. You’d be riddled with holes before your tiny brain could even form a counter curse.” Harry stood and stared the shorter man down for a second, then continued.  

“It was not a Muggle, or have you forgotten the enormous Dark Mark outside? Not to mention a knife could never leave a wound so clean,” Harry finished, thinking that he had effectively shut Douglas up, however, that was not to be. Douglas stepped close and lowered his voice. 

“You think you’re so clever, Potter, but I know the truth about you!” Douglas breathed heavily through his hairy nose. 

“Oh yeah? Do tell, I’m surely in need of enlightenment.” Harry would have laughed if the scene around him hadn’t been so horrid. 

“The truth is, people only _think_ you know what you’re doing because you got lucky once!” Harry had to snort at that… _once_! “ _And_ they only like you because you are the famous Harry Potter! You don’t know it was a wizard who did this! True, one would have had to conjure the Mark, but there is no way you can tell whether it was a knife or a wand that killed these people, but if _you_ say it, everyone will believe you, whether you can prove it or not!”  

“Is that so?” Harry asked and was behind Douglas in a flash with his wand to the hefty man’s throat like a knife. Douglas gave a shout and began to struggle, but Harry held him firmly with his free arm gripped across the shorter man’s forehead so he could bend his head back and expose his stumpy neck.  

“Hey…what’s going on here?” one of the Aurors asked, causing the small group that was in the house to turn their attention on the two men.  

“GET OFF ME!” Douglas shouted.  

“Just trying to show Douglas here, why these murders were committed by a wand and not a knife,” Harry said calmly, and there was a collective, _‘Oh,’_ from the group. Then they all seemed to settle back to watch the demonstration, much to Douglas’ dismay.  

“You all just gonna’ stand there and let him threaten my life?” the man continued his struggle, but it was in vain. Harry was wiry, limber, younger and stronger.  

“Oh pipe down, Douglas!” shouted Tonks from the other room. “Go on, Harry.”  

“Thanks,” Harry smirked. “As you can see, the wounds on the throats are so clean they are almost cauterized.” Harry paused to tighten his grip on Douglas’ broad head.  

“If the killer had been using a knife, the cut would’ve been jagged. The struggle alone would insure that, since, as you can see, no one will stand still and simply let you cut their throat.” At this, Douglas tried to calm himself in what seemed to be an attempt to further prove Harry wrong. Harry smirked, again.  

“Even still, if for some reason the person wasn’t struggling, there would be a downward ark or an upward one, depending on the killer’s height.” Harry paused, then swiped his wand across Douglas’ throat in a dramatic fashion, leaving a glowing blue streak across his neck that was slightly raised on the right side. Harry had mumbled a spell just as he simulated slicing Douglas’ throat so a trail would be left by his wand.  

“See, my cut would be upward because I’m much taller.” He released Douglas and the man stepped away from him quickly, giving the rest of the occupants in the room a deadly glare as he furiously rubbed his neck until the blue line was gone.  

“Well done, Harry.” Tonks had come up beside him and whispered at his shoulder. “Too bad it was only a demonstration,” she finished and Harry snorted. 

“BLOODY HELL!” A shout rang out. Harry knew it was Ron’s voice instantly and was already moving in his direction.  

He stepped up beside his mate and gaped in horror at the sight before him. Ron had apparently opened a large storage cupboard and found the body of a young girl. She looked to be in her late teens, maybe nineteen. Harry was unable to blink as he stared at her limp form hanging from a large hook on the back wall.  

She had loads of dark hair that completely obscured her face and hung wildly about her shoulders as if she had been in a struggle for her life. For a brief moment, Harry thought she wore a red blouse and matching socks, but upon closer inspection, they were simply soaked in blood.  

He looked to the floor and saw that she was hanging over a pool of her own blood. Without warning, her head rose slowly, causing Ron to clutch Harry’s sleeve with an iron grip. Then he let out an audible sigh of relief when he realized that Tonks had simply flicked her wand to raise the girl’s head. Her throat had been cut as well. Harry looked over at his friend when he still hadn’t released his grip. Ron was stark white and he had a dazed look in his eyes. 

“All right, mate?” Harry asked as he pried Ron’s grip from his sleeve.  

“What? Oh, yeah…yeah. I’m fine,” Ron tore his eyes way from the girl and turned to leave the other Aurors to the scene.  

“Potter! Weasley!” Their chief called to them and they moved with haste. Abraham Weinpret had only been made Chief Auror three years ago, however, his imposing demeanor, booming voice and undeniable skill had him commanding respect from every single member of the Ministry.  

Chief Weinpret was a tall man in his late fifties, one of the only people Harry knew who could look down on Ron, with the exception of Hagrid. He was extremely handsome with his wavy brown hair and deep silver eyes. Harry had often seen women nearly swoon as he walked by. Ginny and Hermione had even gawked at their first introduction. But the man was oblivious to any of this, not so much because he was happily married, but more so because he simply didn’t entertain such trivial behavior.  

His head was always held high, although not in an arrogant way but rather because he needed to be aware of his surroundings. Harry quickly noticed that this man always moved with purpose. No fumbling, awkward gestures would ever dare be made by him and Harry found that he liked Chief Weinpret very much.   

“You two can go,” Weinpret said, and although his tone left no room for discussion, Harry was in no way going to just pack up and leave when there was so much left to do. A quick glance at Ron, and Harry knew his mate was more than happy to run from the place. He still looked deathly pale and just a bit green as well.  

“Sir, don’t you need us here?” Harry asked. 

“No,” the Chief said stepping closer. “I need you two in the office first thing in the morning for debriefing and then you are to comb this village for any witnesses. It’s going to take all day and I need you two in top form.” Again, his tone implied that the conversation was over, but Harry was not about to spend the day talking to little old ladies and such. 

“But Sir, surely you can use us somewhere—” 

“Potter!” Weinpret straightened quickly and, if possible, became even taller. “Are you questioning my leadership?” 

“No, Sir!” Harry shook his head vehemently, and was thankful that Douglas was nowhere to be found.  

“Good. Now I know you think talking to witnesses is something a trainee should be doing…,” Harry wanted to agree but was slightly afraid that it might just get him demoted back down to a trainee. “…but you two are excellent interrogators. The best we have, actually. It’s because people trust you. They feel as if they are safe telling two of the most famous war heroes of our time information that could very well get them killed. Now go home, and not another word, Potter. If you so much as say goodbye, you’ll be sorry!”  

Harry’s mouth was clamped shut as he and Ron turned to exit quickly. Once they were outside and out of earshot of their chief, Ron turned to Harry with an amused look on his face.  

“When are you ever going to learn to just shut up?” Ron asked, but Harry wasn’t listening, he was staring up at the sky. The blood red Dark Mark was still glowing ominously, with the serpent slithering out of the skull’s mouth every few seconds. Harry raised his wand and shouted, “Dispergo!”  

Nothing happened but a faint shimmer. He glanced at Ron and saw that he too had his wand raised now. Together, they took aim at the symbol of death and desolation and cried, “DISSIPATIO!”  

The Dark Mark burst like a firework and rained red sparks down over the house until it faded into nothing. It was eerily silent in the front yard for a moment even with so much going on.  

“See you in the morning,” Harry mumbled to Ron in a detached voice. Ron simply grunted a response and Disapparated with a loud crack. Harry looked down at his wristwatch and grimaced. It was a quarter to midnight. He hoped Ginny was not waiting up for him.  

***** 

With a loud crack, Harry arrived at the front gate of his property. He and Ginny had been living there for over four years and yet, he still had a hard time believing it was his. The home was large by most standards and far more than he would ever need, even if he and Ginny wanted to give Mr. and Mrs. Weasley a hearty competition for who could have the most children.  

Potter’s Cove rested on twenty-two acres of land and had ten enormous bedrooms. He thought Ginny was insane when she brought him there and told him she wanted it. Although he was hard-pressed to refuse her anything, he just didn’t see that house as being something necessary. The simple three-bedroom cottage that Ron and Hermione bought after their wedding was more to Harry’s liking. 

However, when Ginny told him how she wanted to open a school for all the children who would not be able to be home schooled before attending Hogwarts, Harry had no choice but to give in. The war had left many broken homes, widows, and widowers, as well as orphans. With only one parent left in a lot of homes, it was impossible to earn money and stay home to teach a child the fundamentals, which had been the standard practice for generations in Wizarding households.  

It was an extraordinary idea, and Harry couldn’t help but swell with pride whenever he thought of the fact that his wife had come up with it. At the present, they were bursting at the seams with children ranging in ages from four to ten. Ginny had a staff of nine instructors. They taught every thing from reading and writing to elementary magic, without wands of course. The children were dropped off in the morning and stayed until early evening most often having dinner at the school before being picked up by their parent or guardian.   

Harry made the long trek to the front of the house, having set up wards similar to Hogwarts that would not allow anyone to Apparate onto the grounds. Most times he would Floo home to cut out the walk, but he was in no mood to go back inside that farmhouse and see if the fireplace was connected to the network.  

A single candle flickered in the second floor window on the side of the house that was considered Harry and Ginny’s living quarters. They had sectioned off a cozy portion that merely left them an upstairs bedroom, guest room and two baths. The kitchen and the entire downstairs were shared with the school. The remaining bedrooms on the other side of the house were converted into classrooms.  

Harry knew that candle meant that Ginny was waiting up for him. He smiled slightly, after the night he’d had, he needed to hold his wife and relax. He stepped through the door and found her in the sitting room on the sofa, facing a crackling fire. As he stepped up behind her, he was slightly surprised to see that she was not alone. A small boy with thick black hair and tiny little features lay in her lap fast asleep.  

“Hey,” Harry whispered and dropped a kiss on her head. Ginny let her copper head fall to the back of the sofa and gave a faint smile. She looked tired, Harry noticed as he took a seat beside her.  

“What’s Ethan still doing here?” Harry asked quietly. Ginny cradled the little boy in her arms like a baby and kissed his forehead.  

“His mum needed to work late. She wanted to come get him at eleven, but I saw no reason to wake him only to have him, right back here in the morning,” Ginny sighed, and kissed Ethan’s head again. She wore a dreamy expression on her face as she held him in her arms. Harry knew the time was coming when they would need to talk about having kids, but he always assumed Ginny would bring it up, or it would simply happen, but neither had occurred as of yet.  

Ethan was not a victim of war, at least that wasn’t the reason his mother was a widow. His father was a simple merchant, with a store in Diagon Alley and was crushed by a collapsed storage shelf three years ago when Ethan was only one. Ginny took a liking to the boy instantly. Harry was certain it had much to do with their striking resemblance. From the look of him, Ethan could be Harry’s son, but Harry had assured Ginny that he had not fathered any children elsewhere, which only caused a wry laugh from her.  

The couple sat quietly for a long while as Harry ran his fingers through Ginny’s silky hair. Then he looked at the clock and was startled to see that it was nearing half past midnight. Before he could tell Ginny they should be getting off to bed, she spoke. 

“How was work? You were pretty late,” Harry tensed instantly. 

“Work was fine,” he said, a bit more curtly than he intended. Ginny raised her head and looked at him.  

“You sure?” Her eyes were suddenly quite focused. Harry changed the subject quickly. 

“Aren’t you going to put him down?” That seemed to do the trick, as Ginny looked back to Ethan and sighed. 

“I tried, but he seems to only be able to fall asleep in my arms,” she curled her fingers through his dark hair. 

“You sure it’s him and not you?” Harry asked, slightly amused, slightly jealous. He wanted to lay in his wife’s arms tonight…he needed it. 

“He’s scared, Harry. It’s not a familiar place.” 

“He’s here five days a week!” Harry said incredulously. Now he was really beginning to think that Ginny was using that as an excuse to cuddle the boy. 

“He’s never slept here before. That’s different. It’s hard for children to sleep in new places.” 

“Says who? Our home isn’t scary.” He had no idea why her reaction was irking him so, but he was feeling very selfish at the moment and wanted Ginny to pick up on that.  

“Gosh Harry, he’s a baby, and he’s slept in one bed his entire life and this is his first time ever being somewhere else. It’s scary!” Her voice rose a bit and Ethan stirred. She narrowed her eyes at Harry, but he was in a slightly foul mood now and never really did know when to shut up.  

“First of all, he’s not a baby, he’s four. And second, clearly he’s asleep now, you can put him down. You just don’t want to,”  

Ginny shook her head stubbornly. “That’s not it. I want him to feel safe here so if he needs to stay again, he will be able to sleep in the bed by himself. You of all people should understand this. I believe you told me that your first night at Hogwarts you weren’t able to sleep, and you were _eleven_!”  

“That’s not the same!” Harry shouted. He didn’t want to wake Ethan but he didn’t like how Ginny seemed to be throwing something so vulnerable in his face. 

“Why not? Because it’s _you_?” Ginny snapped, sitting forward a bit. 

“It’s not the same because I slept in a bloody cupboard for ten years! I couldn’t sleep because a _giant_ had come and told me that I was a sodding wizard and my life would never be the same! I couldn’t sleep because I had never been given anything as soft and as comfortable as my new bed at Hogwarts! _That’s_ why I couldn’t sleep!”  He breathed rapidly. “I _never_ had any one hold me in their arms and rock me to sleep, _never_!” 

Harry got to his feet in a flash. He couldn’t believe he was jealous of a child. A sweet child at that because, Ethan was a wonderful kid and Harry was very fond of the boy. He now felt like shite. And what was more, he was wrong, for he was certain that at least for the first year of his life, his mum had held him in her arms and rocked him to sleep. He just had no memory of it.  

Ginny looked absolutely beside herself at his outburst. She wore an expression that was a mixture of worry and confusion.  “I’m sorry, Harry,” she reached for his hand and he let her take it for a brief second, giving it a light squeeze. “I didn’t mean to make light of your childhood. I only thought that you’d understand because you sort of went through it too.”  

“It’s…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap, I just had a rough day. I’m sorry,” he leaned forward and kissed her softly.  “Listen, I need to step out for a moment.” 

“Step out? Harry, it’s the middle of the night!” Ginny really did fix him with a look that said she thought he was losing his mind.  

“Yeah I know, but I…I need to talk and I know your brother is still up. We had a rough day and I need to hash some of this out, otherwise I’ll never get to sleep. I won’t be more than an hour,” he said that all very quickly and before Ginny could get out a full rebuff, Harry was tossing Floo powder into the fire and stepping into the warm flames. 

“10 Rose Garden!” Harry shouted, and was spinning toward Ron’s home an instant later.  

*****  

Ron sat on the edge of his bed, his skin still flushed and tingling from his hot shower. Every part of his body was ready for sleep, except for his mind. The sight of that red Dark Mark almost made Ron shit himself when he and Harry had first popped onto the scene. He thought they were through with Dark Marks and Death Eaters, if that was in fact who had conjured it. It seemed so long ago since they had to deal with any thing like this and yet, at the same time, it felt like yesterday. 

Ron knew it was useless to try and sleep, but he also knew that if Hermione woke and found the bed empty, he’d have a lot of questions to answer, so he settled back and let his head rest comfortably on the pillow. Staring at the ceiling, Ron listened to the shallow breathing coming from Hermione and waited for a sleep that would probably never come tonight.  

Hermione stirred beside him and Ron snapped his eyes shut, pretending to be fast asleep. Her hand brushed across his bare chest and came to rest by his throat, where she unconsciously fingered the silver chain-link necklace he wore. Ron gently moved her hand, not wanting her to inadvertently set off the medallion attached and alert the Auror force. He pulled her closer since he was never able to have her cuddle him without cuddling her right back.  

Hermione moaned in her sleep, and Ron was not all that surprised that he was beginning to feel the first stirrings of arousal deep in his belly. As her leg slipped over his, she let out a puff of air and then let her leg rest across the front of his boxers. Ron slid his hand down her silky thigh and pulled it up toward his waist. 

While it felt wonderful to have her touch his cock like that, it was a very delicate area and one wrong move would have him crying like a baby. This action seemed to wake Hermione, as she moved that leg slowly over Ron’s hip, then rolled her body on top of him. She didn’t move at first, just simply lay there, and let Ron stroke his large hands up and down her back. Before long, she was trailing light kisses across his jaw line. She kissed her way down his neck and over the silver necklace, back up to his ear. Ron moaned.  

“Hi, sweetheart,” Hermione whispered in his ear. Ron found that he was momentarily unable to respond as he was quite distracted by the fact that she seemed to be covering him like a deliciously silky, squirming blanket. It was difficult indeed to tell the difference between the silk of her skin and the silk of her nightgown. Hermione’s hair covered his face, and tickled his shoulders like heavenly feathers and he found all the different sensations a welcome distraction.   

“How was your day?” she whispered in his other ear, having kissed her way to it. Ron grunted, causing Hermione to pull back slightly and look him in the eyes. He knew she could read him like a book, and he tried his best not to give away anything that would cause too many questions, but it was a hard thing to do when you have a bond so strong with another person that they can practically hear your thoughts.  

“Do you want to talk about it?” she whispered again, as she kept eye contact with him and caressed his cheek. Ron paused for a moment. He _did_ want to talk about it. He’d love nothing more than to have one of their famous all-nighters in the Common Room while they tried to unravel the plan of some diabolical force. He wanted desperately for Hermione to be her usual brilliant self and figure it all out so he could wake up in the morning and know that the world was still a relatively safe place to be. However, he simply shook his head. 

“No, love, I want you to help me forget,” his voice was low, but the desperation rang loud and clear.  Hermione fixed him with a look that said she was more than up to the task. In a flash, she sat back, whipped her nightgown over her head and tossed it to the floor. Her perky breasts bounced before him, and Ron moved his hands from her waist and slid them up her body to caress them.  

Hermione covered his hands with her own, and helped him with his ministrations as she began to grind her hot center against him. Before long, she was lying flat against him again and kissing him thoroughly. Ron fisted his hands in her untamed hair as his tongue delved passionately in her mouth. He loved her mouth, loved the way she kissed.  

Hermione had several different types of kisses and he knew them all. There were her kisses that were chaste and usually used for a quick goodbye, or in the presence of his family, often on the cheek or so faint on the lips that they barely touched.  Then there were the kisses she gave him when she needed to build his confidence. Those usually came with moans and praises and were often needed when he was in a self-deprecating mood. She’d often complement his lips during those times as well, and it never came off as insincere or phony because she truly meant it.  

Currently Hermione was giving Ron the kiss of all kisses. He was never able to have a coherent thought in his head when she kissed him like this. This kiss only showed itself in private moments, because it was always leading up to or during sex that it made its appearance. This kiss was meant to erase the outside world and keep them locked in a cocoon of love for as long as they needed to hide.  This kiss usually wiped Ron’s mind so completely that he suffered from dizziness after they were through. 

Unfortunately tonight, his brain was already cluttered with other things, so the kiss, while still mind blowing, only caused a pleasurable distraction at the most.  Hermione made her way down his body, kissing every inch of flesh she came across, only stopping long enough to tug on his boxers until his cock was free for the taking. Ron was certain that Hermione knew what he needed, and it wasn’t a delicate love making session. No, he needed to be shagged…hard and fast. Her actions let him know that she planned to do just that as she took him deep into her mouth before his boxers were even off completely.  Ron wriggled them down the rest of the way until he could no longer muster the energy to do so because of the powerful way Hermione was sucking him off. They simply remained tangled around his left foot.  

Ron moaned loudly as Hermione cupped his balls in her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. Her mouth was sopping wet as she bobbed her head quickly and twisted it slightly from side to side. It felt incredible and Ron whimpered as his toes curled tightly and he sunk back into the pillow even more. This was pure ecstasy, but after a few moments, Ron threaded the fingers of his right hand through Hermione’s hair and gave it a gentle tug. They were so in tune with each other that Ron knew he didn’t have to explain what he wanted. Sure enough, Hermione let go of his cock with a sloppy slurp and was crawling up his body to straddle his hips. She leaned forward and placed a wet kiss on his mouth that he greedily accepted. Then she nudged his cock back with her hand and slid down onto it.  

The oddest thing seemed to happen as Hermione pushed Ron’s cock deep inside her. He became acutely aware of everything. Truly, everything. His mind was so alert and in need of distraction that it seemed to cling to every little nuance that was going on around him. Ron could feel the tiny ridges on the wall of Hermione’s vagina as she moved up and down.  

He could feel how she gripped him tightly, but not as tightly as she first had. Now, she seemed to mold to the curve of his cock, and that thought almost sent Ron to the brink of insanity knowing that his was the only cock that _had_ ever and _would_ ever feel her. But his mind was still picking up too many different things to linger on that. And now he was noticing how the tip of his cock pressed against something soft and cushiony, which Hermione had told him long ago was her cervix.  

Also, every time he rolled his hips, he could feel the faint click that the left side made due to an injury sustained during the war. Ron fleetingly wondered if Hermione had ever noticed.  He could also hear the clock in the hall as it ticked away the seconds. Then his body stiffened as he heard an all too familiar _whoosh_ and he knew it was from someone Flooing into his home. 

Hermione seemed to have mistaken his sudden tensing as sign of his impending climax and she pressed her hands on his chest and moaned, “Not yet, sweetheart,” then she tossed her head back and began to work her hips diligently in what must have been a frantic effort to match what she thought was his imminent orgasm.  

Ron muffled a groan, and Hermione appeared to have taken that as further affirmation, so she dug in and began to grind harder. Her eyes were screwed shut and it was a good thing because Ron had propped himself up on one elbow, his wand was in his hand and he was not at all paying attention to what Hermione was doing to him. No, he was looking around her into the darkness of the open bedroom door.  

Hermione was rocking, moaning and shouting obscure things now and Ron had never before noticed how loud she could be. Usually, he wanted her to be as loud as possible because it got him off something wicked. However tonight, he needed to hear. He was reluctant to quiet her down because whoever just entered his home would know that Ron was on to them should he and Hermione abruptly stop. Ron wanted to at least have the element of surprise and he was ready to shoot a hex so powerful on this intruder that they would be eating though a tube for the rest of their lives. He did, however, need to get Hermione to quiet down just a touch so he could hear them approach the bedroom.  

“Hermione!” Ron whispered roughly, but she was beyond reach, he realized, as he allowed his eyes to leave the doorway for a split second. Her eyes were still tightly closed, and now she had strands of curly hair clinging to her damp face and neck. Her head jerked forward, and was quickly followed by a forceful jerk of her hips. Then her inner muscles were clenching around him so rapidly and forcefully that Ron gave an involuntary shutter as his cock exploded inside of her.  

It was an odd feeling indeed to have one’s body acting independently of one’s mind, for Ron had never fought against an orgasm so strongly before. He was desperately battling every natural instinct his body had in order to keep his wits about him. He wanted to close his eyes and throw back his head and shout and curse and grab her hips and thrust until he was completely empty. He could do none of that. All he would allow himself to do was pant rapidly while his body shook uncontrollably. 

Merlin! He was angry with his cock, for it seemed to be emptying forever. The very second it gave its last spurt, and Ron had control over his body again, he sat up and clamped a hand over Hermione’s mouth. Her eyes went wide instantly, as the after glow of sex quickly gave way to surprise. “Shh, someone’s just Flooed into the house,” Ron whispered, letting his eyes leave the door for a split second. If possible, Hermione’s eyes went wider, then they quickly returned to normal. She moved his hand from her mouth.  

“It’s probably one of your idiot brothers!” she whispered. Ron knew she meant the Twins, they were the only ones she referred to as idiots. Rationally, Ron knew that there were only a few people who could Floo into their home without permission and they were all Weasley’s or married to a Weasley. Anyone else would find themselves stepping out of a fire place in Siberia. Should they try it a second time, then they would step out of the fireplace into a Ministry holding cell. But something was still off. Maybe he was overreacting because of what he had seen tonight, but Ron was not about to allow himself and Hermione to become the next victims.   

“You really think Fred and George would waste an opportunity to catch us in the act?” Ron said in a sharp whisper. No, his brothers would have come straight to the bedroom, especially with all the noise Hermione was making. Then Ron fairly tossed her off of him and she gave a little squeak, but he was speaking again before she could protest.  

“Get your wand and get dressed…in that order!” he barked in a hushed tone, preferring to have Hermione duel completely starkers if need be, than to have her fully dressed and dead. Hermione shot him a look that said she didn’t appreciate being spoken to as if she were a child, but she got up and grabbed her wand, then went to the wardrobe. Ron snapped his fingers to get her attention and she turned to him. He held out his arms as if to say, _what the hell are you doing?_  

“Getting dressed!” Hermione hissed. Ron stepped forward, bent over, scooped up her nightgown and tossed it to her. It landed on her head and she was not happy as she snatched it away from her face. She was not moving fast enough for Ron. He had already pulled up his boxers and took his position at the door before she even had her wand in her hand. Hermione stepped up beside him and Ron could feel her attitude coming off her in waves. He was only a second away from stunning her and hiding her in the wardrobe so he could deal with the intruder himself. But he’d be a fool to do so because she’d surely kill him. 

“It’s probably just Harry,” Hermione mumbled and Ron bit back a retort.  

“Stay behind me,” was all he said as he stepped into the darkness of the hallway. Ron splayed himself flat against the wall. The he took silent steps until he was able to get a view of the sitting room, wand ready to do some damage, that is until he saw familiar boots sticking out from in front of the high-back chair facing the fireplace.  

“Bloody hell, Harry, are you completely daft?” Ron could have killed him as he stepped further into the room.  

“Told you so,” Hermione mumbled, and it did nothing to help Ron’s mood. Harry peeped around the back of the chair looking remarkably like a child. As Ron and Hermione stepped around to get a full view of their intruder, it appeared he wasn’t simply content to Floo into their home, but he needed a snack as well as he sat with a plate of chocolate biscuits and a glass of milk.  

Hermione fixed him with a curious glare. “Harry, you have nothing better to do than lurk about in our home at an indecent hour and eat biscuits?” 

“I wasn’t _lurking_!” Harry stood, and quickly finished chewing the biscuit he was eating as if it was making him guilty by doing so.  

“I came over here to talk to Ron but you two were… _busy,_ ” he quirked an eyebrow at Hermione and she gave him the appropriate amount of blushing before she squared her shoulders preparing herself to give him a proper arse chewing. Ron knew all too well what was coming next and he knew there would be nothing he could do to stop it, not that he would anyway, this was too much fun.  

“So that’s how you get your jollies now, is it? Listening to other people shag?” She asked with her arms folded across her chest. Harry simply smirked.  

“Hermione, I could have been home and still heard you. Merlin! The decibels you reach… well it explains why I have to repeat myself to Ron so much. The bloke is probably hard of hearing!” Harry burst into laughter as Hermione’s face colored so rapidly, that for a moment, Ron she was going to pop. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He was already going get his arse chewed off for hitting her in the head with her nightgown. Ron was certainly not trying to add to the list.  

“You…you!” she stuttered, searching for something to say in return. As it seemed she could find nothing, she picked up one of the chocolate biscuits and chucked it at Harry’s head. He winced as the biscuit cracked him across the forehead. Ron did laugh then. It was a wonderful distraction and Ron was delighted to take it.  

A few years after the war, Ron had observed a remarkable thing happening between Harry and Hermione, they began to tease each other like brother and sister. While Hermione had always nagged Harry like a truly annoying sister would, they never really teased each other the way he and Ginny had.  Sometimes Ron found himself encouraging it because he knew they never had this as children and honestly, it was bloody fun to watch.  

“You hit me…with a _biscuit_!” Harry said, giving her an incredulous look.  

“Well maybe if you weren’t hanging about like a _pervert_ , you wouldn’t be in a position to find yourself hit with food!”  

“ _Pervert_!” Harry looked at Ron for a brief moment in disbelief, then his eyes changed quickly and Ron knew that Harry was about to stir up more trouble.  

“Well I guess I’d rather be called a pervert than… _Big Daddy_!” Hermione shrieked ,and launched herself at a hysterically laughing Harry. She was choking and punching him in rapid succession, but he continued to laugh. 

Ron, on the other hand was quite confused. Big Daddy? Who was called that? Ron thought to himself, ignoring the battle that was going on before him. Then his brain seemed to cotton on and he realized that Hermione must have shouted that while he was trying desperately to tune her out. Big Daddy? Ron snorted. It was so unlike Hermione, but then she had been trying to talk dirty to him because of what she had read in his journal. Ron snorted, that was just ridiculous. _Well…maybe not_. It might have actually been pretty hot, he thought and almost pouted. Now he wished he’d been paying attention because he was sure Hermione would never call him that again, after having the first time over heard by Harry.  

As she finished her assault on her surrogate brother, she stepped away from him, winded and with her hair wild and filled with static. Harry was still laughing and Ron could tell Hermione wanted to shut him up desperately. “Fine, Harry,” she breathed. “You want to talk about names given to us by our spouses?” The look she gave him was positively evil, and Harry stopped laughing immediately.  

“No, no, I don’t!” he answered instantly, and he really did look frightened.  

“Oh well, that’s too bad… _Captain Spank_!” Harry’s face seemed to go green, and the room was silent for a swollen moment before Ron cut through it with a full-bellied laugh.  

“Please…” Ron laughed hard. “…please tell me that Ginny does not call you that!” He was doubled over now. 

“No, she doesn’t!” Harry protested, but no one believed him as he looked absolutely sick at the moment. Then he returned Hermione’s evil glare with one of his own. 

“Sugar-Knockers!” Harry shot it at her like a poisoned arrow and stepped back quickly with a wicked laugh. He seemed prepared for Hermione to hurl herself at him again, but she rounded on Ron instead.  

“You told him that!” she screamed loudly, and Ron, who had just taken a bite of a biscuit, choked, spraying her with crumbs. 

“I can’t believe you told him that you called me that ridiculously stupid name!”  

“It…it was a joke!” he sprayed more crumbs. “I told him it was a joke, that I don’t really call you that.”  

“Not to your _face_!” Harry piped up, with a wicked chuckle. Hermione pitched another biscuit at his head, but he ducked this time and it flew into the fireplace.  

“Honestly, you two are… are…”she grunted, unable to find a word quite good enough to describe them. She worked hard to keep the annoyed expression on her face, but Ron could tell she was itching to laugh. He also knew that Harry would never tease her if he knew she would really get angry.  

“You came here to talk to Ron, so talk. You have twenty minutes and not a second more as we all have to get up and go to work in a few hours!” Hermione turned abruptly and stomped down the hallway. 

“G’night…S _ugar Knockers,_ ” Harry mumbled the last part with a cackle that Ron was sure the deluded man thought was only heard by the two of them until Hermione’s slipper collided with the back of Harry’s head. 

“OUCH!” he shouted and rubbed the back of his head. “Good aim, she’s got,” Harry said admiringly. Ron crossed his arms over his chest and turned to Harry. 

“You have nothing better to do but come in here and get my wife all riled up in the middle of the night?”  

“You seemed to have done a far better job of that than I could have,” Harry smirked. “Besides, I needed to talk and I figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep either.” 

Suddenly, the weight of the day was back on him and Ron was almost angry that Harry had allowed him to forget about it for a brief moment, only to bring it crashing right back.  “Meet me out in the garden. I’m going to put on some clothes.” 

The two men exited in different directions and a few minutes later, Ron was taking a seat beside Harry on the iron bench that faced the massive garden. Ron loved it out there at any time of the year. Even now, and it was quite cold for early November, but he was comfortable. They sat quietly for a long while and Ron knew Harry was trying desperately not to read more into the events than what was called for, however, the two of them never were the most rational of the Trio. That had always been Hermione.  

“She looked like Hermione, don’t you think?” Ron asked, breaking the heavy silence.  

“Who?” Harry looked up and met Ron’s eyes in confusion.  

“That…that girl,” Ron mumbled, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. He heard Harry take in a breath. 

“No, I don’t think she looked like Hermione at all.” Their eyes met for a moment and Ron knew that Harry wasn’t just telling him what he wanted to hear. It almost cleared Ron’s mind of the graphic image completely. It seemed to have lodged itself into his brain and nothing had been able to pull it out for more than a few moments. When he had opened that cupboard door, his heart nearly leapt out his throat. It was only but a fraction of a second that he thought he saw Hermione hanging there, but the image was burned into his brain. Now that he was thinking about it, that girl had straight hair and it was near black. She actually looked nothing at all like Hermione. Ron visibly let go of a breath that he seemed to have been holding since he’d opened that door.  

“What if it’s going to start again?” Harry asked in a voice so small that Ron was almost expecting to look over and see the eleven year old boy he first met on the Hogwarts Express.  

“It’s not,” Ron said, but it wasn’t at all convincing.  

“You don’t know that. What if it is?” Harry pressed. 

“Then we fight! What other choice do we have?” There was a long silence where Ron practically unraveled his sleeve by pulling at the loose thread, and Harry stared transfixed into the garden.  

“I don’t know if I have it in me to fight another war,” Harry whispered.  Ron looked up and stared at him for a long while. He was afraid of this. He knew Harry was only a breath away from his limit during the war. It almost killed him to hang on for as long as he had, but he did and they triumphed. Another war may not find him faring too well, but Ron was not about to say that.  

“Voldemort is dead!” Ron snapped, and it caused Harry to look up and lock eyes with him. “And he is not coming back this time, so whoever or whatever conjured that Dark Mark and killed those people will be caught and this will be over!” He breathed heavily. 

“There will not be another war! And if there is, I will be on the front lines again, fighting to the death!” The two men stared at each other for a long time. 

“Shite Harry, before…before, we were fighting for the possibility of all this,” he gestured around him. “Now that we have it, doesn’t it make you want to fight even harder to keep it?” Harry swallowed thickly and nodded, but he looked wearier than Ron had ever seen him.  

It was almost as if this one incident had somehow convinced Harry that there could never be peace. This, above all else, was what made Ron furious. For so long after the war, they were hesitant to be happy or let down their guard, and now, with a few happy years behind them, someone was trying to take it all away. Right then, Ron made a silent pledge to himself, that he would do anything to prevent that from happening.     

 

 

**AN:** Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it and I hope you leave a review. Thanks to my beta, Jamie, you are great!     

 


	2. Chapter 2 - An Excessive Use of Force

Chapter 2 ~ An Excessive Use of Force

 

Even as sleep held him soundly, Harry knew that he was alone in the bed. It was hard to explain, but he always slept more contently when Ginny was curled up beside him, and he'd had a fretful sleep last night.   
  
Harry pulled himself out of sleep gradually, wanting to hold on to as much of it as he could. His eyes blinked open, confirming that he was alone, this was not a surprise. When he came back last night, Ginny was fast asleep on the sofa with Ethan. Harry had simply placed a blanket over the two of them, and went up to bed.   
  
Currently, he could hear water sloshing around in their bathroom. He groggily sat up and reached for his glasses, and then trudged to the bathroom. Harry wanted to properly apologize to Ginny not to mention...he had to go.  
  
He pushed open the bathroom door, already reaching into his pajama bottoms preparing to whip out his cock and relieve his bladder, but froze immediately. Ginny sat on the floor by the bathtub with a bubble-covered boy splashing around inside.   
  
"Uncle Harry!" Ethan shouted with a wide grin. Harry quickly snatched his hand out of his pajama bottoms, causing an amused snort from Ginny.   
  
"Good morning, Ethan!" Harry said to the small boy.   
  
"Wake up time, Uncle Harry!" Ethan shouted again. All the children at the school called Harry, uncle, whereas Ginny was called, Miss Ginny. She would not stand for anyone calling her professor or Mrs. Potter. She got enough of that being greeted in the streets or while conducting business. For some reason, the children never seemed to feel comfortable calling her Aunt Ginny, probably because she was their teacher.  
  
When the school first opened, Ginny spent a lot of time babysitting Bill and Fleur's oldest son, Noah. He always called Harry, uncle, of course, so the other children followed along since Harry wouldn't allow them to call him Mr. Harry, that just seemed silly. He still felt like he was seventeen as it was, and to be addressed by a child as Mister, was almost laughable.   
  
"Uncle Harry, look!" Ethan squealed and held up a soapy toy spider that was as big as the child's head, with hairy black legs and big red eyes. Harry damn near squeaked at the sight of it. He gave Ginny a look and she simply shrugged her shoulders.   
  
"He likes that ghastly thing," she said. Harry smiled and then made a quick gesture to let her know that he needed to use the loo, which she seemed to understand straight away.  
  
"Come on Ethan, Uncle Harry has to get ready for work," she reached for him but Ethan stuck his arms out for Harry to take him. Harry smiled and picked up the dripping wet boy without regard for his pajamas. He had no idea why the child was so fond of him. He never really played with Ethan or anything like that, just had conversations with him much as he would with an adult most times. Harry stood Ethan on the closed toilet lid and wrapped him in a big fluffy towel.   
  
"Uncle Harry?" came Ethan's muffled voice from under the towel. "You should never put milk in your shoes." Harry snorted, amazed by how alive this kid was at such an early hour, because Ginny looked absolutely knackered.  
  
"I'll keep that in mind," Harry answered. What he liked most about Ethan was his obscure advice. It was always true, and sometimes quite profound. However, most times it was just funny.   
  
"Oh yes, Uncle Harry," Ethan nodded. "My mum was not very happy when I did that," His little head popped out from under the towel and his eyes were wide as he told his story to Harry.   
  
"She was angry and her face was like...like..." he screwed his tiny features into the most gruesome expression possible for a face as cute as his. Harry and Ginny burst into laughter.   
  
"Well that is quite angry, I expect," Harry wrapped the towel around him and handed the boy to Ginny.   
  
"Uncle Harry!" Ethan shouted, as if Harry wasn't standing right by him.  
  
"Yes Ethan," Harry's bladder was threatening to burst at any moment and he wondered why he hadn't run down to the guest bath five minutes ago.   
  
"You should never put a chocolate frog in your shoe after you put milk in it to see if it will swim and then eat it. It tastes yucky...like stinky feet!" Harry really did laugh then trying hard not to wet himself as he did so. It was more good advice from Ethan, Harry mused.   
  
"Eww, Ethan, did you do that?" Ginny asked with her nose wrinkled.   
  
"No," he answered quickly.   
  
"Ethan, what did I tell you about fibbing?" Ginny asked, looking a lot like her mum at the moment. Ethan gave a quick glance at Harry, but must've decided that he'd be of no help.   
  
"It's bad and I should always tell the truth," he answered sheepishly.   
  
"That's right."  
  
"I'm sorry, please don't tell my mum that I ate a chocolate frog that tasted like stinky feet." Harry snorted, but straightened quickly at the glare Ginny shot him.   
  
"I won't...this time, okay, but don't do it again." she gave him a stern look and Ethan nodded his little head, then she carried him out of the bathroom. Harry quickly closed the door and allowed himself a low chuckle, then relieved his bursting bladder.   
  
Once he had washed up and brushed his teeth, Harry opened the bathroom door and watched Ginny as she finished dressing Ethan. She stood him on the bed and combed his hair. Harry noticed how content she looked as she doted on the boy lovingly. He smiled but before he could really think about how he felt about having children...  
  
"HARRY!" a shout from down stairs rang through the halls and revealed that Ron must have just Flooed in.   
  
"I'll be down in a tic!" Harry shouted. Perfect! He thought, as he was looking for a way to get Ginny alone. He quickly went back into the bathroom and picked up the soggy toy spider, squeezing out the excess water.   
  
"Hey, Ethan," Harry said as he stepped back into the bedroom. Ethan was now jumping up and down on the bed. Harry stopped him mid-jump.   
  
"Why don't you go down and say hello to Uncle Ron," Ethan's eyes went wide. All the children loved Ron. He always rough-housed with the boys and seemed to have an endless amount of sweets. The girls however, simply thought he was dreamy. They thought the same about Harry, but the fact that they could make Ron blush scored him extra points.   
  
Ethan quickly jumped down off the bed as only a four year old could...recklessly. Ginny winced as Harry chuckled.  Before he could barrel out of the room and no doubt collide with an unsuspecting Ron, Harry handed the small boy his toy spider.   
  
"Here, buddy, show this to your Uncle Ron...he loves spiders!" Harry said pleasantly, but in a devious tone that would not be apparent to a small child.  
  
"Okay!" Ethan fairly flew out of the room, excited to the core.  
  
"Ron is going to kill you," Ginny remarked with a smirk as she headed back to the bathroom.  
  
"Listen," Harry said as he stepped closer to their bedroom door, waiting to hear a reaction from Ron. A moment later, a rather girlish squeal was heard, followed by the sound of a glass shattering to the floor. Harry keeled over laughing.   
  
"Oh Merlin, I wish I could have seen that!" he laughed harder. Ginny tsk'd but he could hear her chuckle as he stepped up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. They looked at each other in the mirror for a long moment and suddenly things were not so funny anymore.  
  
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.   
  
"It's okay," Ginny smiled softly. "Somehow I think last night wasn't really about me, was it?" she asked and Harry shook his head.   
  
"Did you need me last night?" Ginny's tone softened and she seemed to already know the answer. Harry let his chin drop to her shoulder then gave a slight nod. "And I had another man in my arms and you didn't like it, did you?" Harry nipped her shoulder gently and took a moment because he wasn't sure if he liked the fact that she could read him so well but it only took another minute for him to realize that he actually loved it.   
  
"It wasn't that I didn't like it. I'm very fond of Ethan, you know that," Ginny nodded. "I guess I was just feeling...I don't know, like I needed to be in your arms," he brushed her hair to the side and kissed her neck. Pressing his body flush with her backside, he knew Ginny could feel the beginnings of his arousal, but that was his intention. She continued to go about her business of getting ready for the day as Harry's hands began to roam. His mind was suddenly on other things.   
  
"Do you want to have a baby?" he whispered, suddenly. Ginny stopped immediately and looked at Harry's reflection in the mirror. He had no idea where that question came from. He had wanted to bring up the subject, maybe at dinner or while they were in bed but somehow the question just slipped from his mouth. He was slightly startled to realize that he had been gently rubbing her belly.   
  
"Right-right now?" Ginny croaked with an expression that was a mix between joy and fear. Harry snorted.  
  
"Well we can try to make it right now, but I doubt if the baby will be here...right now," He smiled and dropped another kiss on her shoulder.  
  
"You're a very funny man, Harry Potter," Ginny smiled, wryly. "You know what I mean," she turned in his arms. "Are you serious?" she asked as if she thought he was going to start laughing and tell her it was all a joke.  
  
"Yes," he met her eyes unwaveringly.   
  
"Well..." Ginny swallowed nervously. "I've been off the potion for a couple of days now, so I might already be..." she looked down guiltily.  
  
"Ginny! Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"It wasn't intentional!" she said with wide apologetic eyes. "I simply forgot to take it about three days ago and then I thought maybe I should stop, but I wanted to talk to you first. Well then, I forgot again and then again..."   
  
Ginny looked down sheepishly because she had been far too busy lately and Harry had just lectured her that she'd forget something important. He had no idea it would be her potion. Although he didn't quite know how he felt about it yet, he thought he felt the beginnings of excitement but Ginny continued to speak.   
  
"So I was adamant that I'd speak with you about it last night, wrote myself a note and everything, but then Ethan was here and...you know...we had a little argument and, I forgot again. The healer said I'd most likely have to be off of it for a few weeks before we could expect any results anyway," she finished apologetically. "I'm sorry," they looked at each other for another moment, Harry's hands still possessively holding her waist.   
  
"It's fine, Gin. I'm not angry," she nodded and looked up at him through her lashes.  
  
"So...so we're going to...have a baby?" Ginny asked in a small voice.  
  
"Yeah," Harry whispered. "Try to, anyway," he leaned in to kiss her but Ginny pulled back.   
  
"You know this means you will have to share me," Ginny fixed him with a questioning, but slightly amused stare. Harry smiled, but that thought did scare him a little. Ginny was the only thing he'd ever had all to himself.   
  
Despite the fact that she was truly special to others, (she was an only daughter, an only sister and a beloved teacher), the way she loved him was something he never had to share with anyone. She was someone that was just for him. He even had to share his best friends with each other, but then he thought, he would be this child's one and only father and that too would be something just for him.   
  
Harry smiled and said, "Not if we have a girl, then you'd have to share me! I'll have two women to take care of me and spoil me. I'll be the king of the castle!" Ginny rolled her eyes in a dramatic way but before she could reply, Harry pulled her to him and kissed her soundly.   
  
He threaded his fingers through her hair and deepened the kiss. A moment later he reached up and removed his glasses. Ginny seemed to know what this meant as Harry only removed his glasses for two things, sleep and sex. Since he was certainly not about to go back to sleep, there was only one other reason.   
  
"Harry, we can't. We don't have time!" Ginny said, pushing him away half-heartedly. Harry reached out and pushed the bathroom door closed.   
  
"We have time," he said with a wicked gleam in his eyes. He backed Ginny up until she was flat against the door. "Ron is down stairs, he will look after Ethan for a few minutes," Harry said, and was already sucking gently on her neck. Ginny moaned.  
  
"Ron is probably standing in a puddle of his own urine thanks to that prank you pulled a few moments ago." Harry chuckled into her neck as his hands began to hitch up her nightgown.   
  
"Then we'd best make this fast," Harry whispered, as his right hand slipped into her knickers and over her hot center. Ginny seemed to be in agreement as she opened her legs wider and let her head fall back to the door with a soft groan.   
  
Harry was no fool, he knew better than to dally about, so he quickly removed her knickers as she snatched her gown over her head. It was virtually impossible for Harry to be in the presence of Ginny's heavenly breasts and not touch them in some manner.   
  
While he loved every inch of his wife, she could bring him to his knees with those glorious breasts. Perky, full and firm, they fit into his hands and mouth as if they were made just for him. The first time he'd seen them, he nearly came in his trousers. And the first time he actually tasted them, he really did come in his trousers. It was quite embarrassing.  
  
He slipped his mouth over one and sucked on her puckered nipple greedily while his hand caressed the other reverently. Then, as he often did, he said a silent thank you that women were made with two breasts.   
  
Ginny was clawing at his back trying to get his shirt off. Harry knew she loved the feel of his chest against her when they made love. Who was he kidding, they were about to shag and it was going to be hot.   
  
Harry released her breasts only long enough to slip his shirt over his head. Then he was pressed against her thrusting his tongue into her waiting mouth. Ginny's hands slipped into his pajama bottoms and she took a firm hold of his cock. Harry moaned in her mouth, and shoved his bottoms a bit lower on his hips.   
  
He hastily removed his wife's pumping hand off his extremely sensitive organ, for if she knew how close he was to coming, she would not be toying with him so. Harry hooked the back of Ginny's knee under his arm and lifted it until it was waist high. He pressed his body to her even more and then slipped his aching cock slowly inside her. Ginny sucked in a fierce breath that caused Harry to shudder. Something about her breathing during sex cut him to the quick. It was the reason for his undoing on far too many occasions.  
  
Harry took a moment to bask in the deliciousness that he experienced every time he was inside this woman. It was always in Harry's nature to dwell, and that was true for everything. He did it with morbid things as well as pleasurable things. However, he knew this was not the time to soak in the wetness, the warmth and the way her inner walls molded to him like a snug glove, so he began to thrust.   
  
Ginny gripped Harry's buttocks, holding tight to the pajama bottoms that were still hanging low on his hips. Harry was working frantically as he drove himself deeply into her causing a wonderfully squelching sound with every thrust. He wanted to savor everything but he wanted them to come quickly as well. He always felt like this because it drove him insane to feel her around him, but normally he fought against it until they'd had a sufficient amount of torture.   
  
Harry was grunting with each thrust and his head was buried in Ginny's neck. Her grip on his bum was sure to leave a mark but Harry was loving this far too much to complain. He could feel his balls squeeze tight and he began to grind against her, sweat rolling down his back. Ginny was panting hard now as she continued to maul his arse trying to pull him deeper.   
  
"Fuck! I'm coming!" Harry shouted, feeling a horrible mix of exhilaration and disappointment because he knew he hadn't felt Ginny come yet. However, no sooner than he had that thought, then she gave a wail as her inner muscles clamped down on him and pulsed in rapid succession, causing a loud moan of ecstasy to escape Harry's throat. Then there was a hard bang on the bathroom door that caused the sweaty couple to jolt.  
  
"Oi, you two!" Ron shouted from the other side of the door. "Harry, when you've finished shagging my sister, do remember that we have to be in the office in twenty minutes!" Harry chuckled as they heard Ron stomp away, then he kissed his wife trying to gather enough of her to last him for the remainder of the day, and wondering if he'd left enough of himself to start life within her.  
  
"I love you so much," he said, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes.   
  
"I know," Ginny smiled and Harry was amazed that she was always able to know when he needed to hear only that. Sometimes it was far more important for him to know that she knew how much he loved her as opposed to knowing how much she loved him. It was strange he knew, but they had a bond so strong that it was not always necessary to verbalize everything.   
  
  
*****  
  
Ron and Harry stepped on to the lift, going down nine floors to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It had been moved from the second level some years ago and given the full use of level nine. It was Chief Weinpret's idea. The department now had training facilities, holding cells and other useful departments within close proximity and the Chief thought it made for a tightly run ship. Times like this, however, with only five minutes to spare, Ron wished it was still on level two. He knew they'd have to sprint as soon as the doors opened because Chief Weinpret did not look highly on laggards. However, before they reached their desired floor, Ron turned to Harry.  
  
"You know, I have a good mind to turn you and Ginny over to the Child Treatment Department," Harry looked at Ron with a rather shocked expression on his face, as did the other three occupants in the lift. But Ron continued without regard for the expressions being shot his way.  
  
"Letting a child play with such a grotesque toy! It's bound to warp his little mind. I wonder what his mum would think if she knew you allowed that in your school," Ron folded his arms over his chest, looking quite arrogant if not still afraid. Once Harry seemed to catch on to what Ron was ranting about, he burst into laughter, causing even more confused looks from the other lift occupants.   
  
"Ron, it's _his_ toy, and his mum bought it for him. So contact whomever you must, but he likes it...not everyone is afraid of an ickle spider," Harry laughed more, only causing Ron to grow red in the face.  
  
"Little? There was nothing little about that bloody thing! And don't think I don't know why you sent him down with it. Just to give you some time to sha-"  
  
"Ron!" Harry cut him off before Ron could finish that sentence, and no doubt shout that he was shagging Ginny. Ron got a hold of himself, and clamped his mouth shut. Although he was upset with his mate's little prank, he certainly didn't want to imply that they were doing anything inappropriate in the presence of a minor.   
  
The doors opened and the two men bolted from the lift and fled toward the Chief's office. They arrived with literally a minute to spare. Ron rapped twice on the door and a booming voice called for them to enter.   
  
Chief Weinpret was seated behind his desk and stacks of official looking papers lay before him. He gestured for Ron and Harry to sit and the men did so immediately. Ron knew that this meeting would be quick, to the point and filled with information, so he flipped his brain into Auror mode.   
  
There were quite a few people that thought Ron was wasting his time when he went into the Auror program, thinking that he was not smart enough. Hermione told him that he would not be able to coast by with copying notes from others, he'd really have to study. She was never one to say that he couldn't do it; on the contrary, she simply wanted him to know that he'd have to really want it, otherwise he would never succeed.   
  
Hermione was right because a funny thing happened when he entered the program, he found that he was very good at it. Maybe it was because he really liked what he was doing or maybe it was because it was all useful information. No history of magic or nonsense of that nature. Ron realized that he had a great memory. He very rarely needed to write things down, although he did on occasion, but he usually never needed to refer his notes. So when Chief Weinpret went right into the debriefing, (which was something Ron really liked about the man), he didn't bother to pull out his notepad.    
  
"The identity of the man found last night was Alphard Black," Weinpret said and Harry visibly jolted.  
  
"Was he...was he related to Sirius?" Ron asked timidly. Harry nodded.  
  
"He was his uncle...but he died."   
  
"I think we've covered that, Potter," the Chief said, as he stood and walked around to the front of his desk then sat on the edge.   
  
"No, I mean, he died about thirty years ago, Sir," Harry said, staring straight ahead with a far off look as if he were trying to figure something out.  
  
"Well clearly that was incorrect. Do you know how he was supposed to have died all these years ago?" Weinpret asked Harry.  
  
"No Sir, Sirius just told me that Alphard was disowned for helping him and that he was dead but that's all I know," Harry said, looking even more confused.  
  
"Well..." Weinpret started. "The woman was Meera Black, his wife. She was a Muggle. They have been married for about thirty years so that explains why he was not too eager to let people know that he was apparently alive and well. Perhaps that was why he faked his death, if that was what he did. It seems more than a coincidence that he would be thought dead right about the same time that he takes up with a Muggle." Ron and Harry nodded.  
  
"And the girl?" Ron asked, swallowing thickly.  
  
"Sophia Black, their daughter,"  
  
"Really?" Ron sat forward a bit. "He must have been eighty years old and the girl looked to be about nineteen."  
  
"Twenty actually," Weinpret cleared his throat and continued. "Meera was in her early fifties. So she was roughly thirty and he was about sixty when they had Sophia," Ron made a noise sounding remarkably like "ick" and then cleared his throat to cover it as Chief Weinpret shot him a look. "From the looks of it, Sophia was not a witch. I assume she would have been at Hogwarts when you two were there since she was only five years behind and neither of you recognized her,"  
  
"Yeah but just because we didn't know her didn't mean she wasn't there, Sir," Ron said.  
  
"You were Head Boy weren't you? It was your job to know the students names, right?" Weinpret shot, Ron goggled at him for a second.  
  
"Sir, there was no way for me to know all the students names by heart. I was not the Headmaster! Besides, we were a little busy seventh year trying to not get killed by Voldemort!" Ron shouted and then seemed to remember who he was speaking to and sheepishly added, "Sir," but Weinpret fixed Ron with an indulging smile.  
  
"Sir," Harry cut in, seeming to know that Ron needed saving. "She didn't go to Hogwarts, at least not as a Black. That name would have certainly gotten my attention. She would have started in our fifth year and that was the year...Sirius died." There was a brief silence while Weinpret appeared to be in deep thought.  
  
"And," Ron began, feeling as though he needed to close the dead air. "If Harry had missed it fifth year, my wife certainly would not have in our seventh year," Harry nodded in agreement. "The Head students are given a list at the start of term with all the student's names on it. Believe me when I say, my wife knew them all."   
  
"You just said it was impossible to know all the names," the chief said with one eyebrow quirked.  
  
"Impossible for me, Sir, my wife is...unique," Ron tried to keep his face a neutral color and not beam with pride as he said that. Harry gave a slightly amused grunt.  
  
"Yes, so I've heard," the chief said, absentmindedly fingering the silver medallion hanging around his neck. "So then we are back to where we started, she was not a student and probably not magical," Weinpret reached behind him and picked up a photo then handed it to Harry.  
  
"This is Milton Kadigen," the chief paused as Harry passed the photo to Ron. It was of an old frail man with a large misshapen nose and beady leaky eyes. He had sallow skin that hung slack about his face giving him large jowls and every so often, the photo would cough, causing the jowls to quiver terribly.   
  
Weinpret continued, "He is the owner of Kadigen's Goods, a shop in the small town where the Blacks lived. An old woman came to the scene last night and said she saw Mr. Kadigen at the Blacks' residence earlier that day. Now he could have simply been there for a visit, or to drop off some goods, but he will be the first place you go today. I want you to find out all there is to know about his relationship with this family,"  
  
"Sir, is he a Dark Arts dealer?" Ron asked.  
  
"Kadigen deals in all types of goods. While he is a low level criminal of sorts, it would not be too hard for him to have stepped into something that was way over his head. So, question him, but under no circumstances is he to be arrested, no matter what you see in his shop... within reason," he added and Ron knew the man didn't want them to leave a dead body or something like that. "Turn a blind eye to it," Weinpret continued, "because if he has gotten himself in to something dangerous, he will without a doubt lead us right to it,"  
  
"Yes, Sir," Ron and Harry said in unison.   
  
"After you've questioned him, report back and let me know if you feel it prudent to post a few Aurors in the area to keep an eye on him."  
  
"Yes, Sir," they said again. Chief Weinpret waved his hand indicating that they were dismissed and the two men left immediately.   
  
Training taught them to keep their mouths closed until they were in an area safe to discuss confidential information. So they rode the lift in silence and when they got to the main floor, Ron pulled Harry toward the atrium with a pat to his stomach.   
  
"Didn't you eat already?" Harry asked. Ron simply nodded. He wasn't famished, but he knew that if he didn't put something else in his stomach it would be growling loudly in about an hour.   
  
They stepped up to the counter and a pretty woman with long black hair smiled at them. She had piercing blue eyes, rosy cheeks and full pink lips. Her robes were extremely low cut and her large breasts bubbled out invitingly.   
  
"May I help you?" her voice came out syrupy sweet and it made Ron shiver nervously.     
  
"Er...can I have a large pumpkin juice and a lemon tart? And throw a blueberry one in too...and a couple of those butter biscuits," Ron smiled brightly at the woman as Harry snorted.  
  
"Yes, sir," she said, just as sugary, and smiled in return. "Would you like something as well, Mr. Potter?" her smiled widened. Everyone in the Ministry knew Harry's name, Ron mused. He knew that most everyone knew his name as well, and it was not as glorious as he once thought it would be. He often wondered why he had once envied Harry because of his fame.  
  
"Just a take away tea, thanks," Harry said.  
  
"Right away," she gave a little wink and was off to gather the goods."  
  
"I think she likes you, mate," Ron whispered. "You've still got it," he chuckled.  
  
"I'm a happily married man, thank you very much."   
  
"Married, but not dead. She's bloody gorgeous," Ron chuckled. Harry fixed him with an incredulous look.  
  
"I'm married to your sister! Not to mention, you're a happily married man yourself...I hope!"  
  
"Harry, I certainly don't want you to act on anything. Believe me, I'd kill you myself and you know there is no other woman in this world that could even turn my head away from Hermione, I'm just saying, she was flirting with you. It's flattering, that's all."  
  
"I would think you'd be used to it. What with all the crap that came after the war, I should think women would be quite bored with me by now," Harry said coolly.  
  
"Maybe she heard about your prowess on a broom," Ron snickered, and Harry punched him on the arm.  
  
"I can't believe Ginny told Hermione that. And I can't believe Hermione said it in front of the Twins. You know they still tease me. I swear your mum has figured it out. I'll never be able to look her in the eyes again," Ron really did laugh then.  
  
"Aw go on Harry, they just want to take the mickey out of you because you get so embarrassed, not to mention, they are probably quite jealous. That was a pretty wicked thing to do on a broom. I know it wasn't a success for me." Harry rounded on him but before he could respond to that, the dark haired woman returned with their order.   
  
Harry reached into his money pouch and handed her the appropriate amount of coins, advising her that he was paying for Ron's food as well. She let her hand linger over his and gave him a smile that was so wicked, Harry blushed crimson.   
  
As they stepped out of the Atrium and into the main corridor, Ron turned to him and said,  
  
"Bloody hell, did you see that look she gave you? I swear, if she had looked at me like that, I would have felt like I'd cheated on Hermione!"  
  
"I know!" Harry breathed with a grimace. "It was ...nasty," they looked at each other for a moment, then burst into laughter.   
  
"Oh, shite!" Ron shouted, suddenly. "I have to tell Hermione that I can't have lunch with her today." He turned and took off toward the lifts. Harry sighed and trotted along side of him.   
  
"You better hope Weinpret doesn't see us," Harry took a sip of his tea and grimaced. "She might be pretty, but she's rubbish at making tea," he mumbled then turned his attention back to Ron.   
  
"Why would you promise to have lunch with her today anyway? You knew we'd be in the field all day."  
  
"If you knew what she was doing to me at the time, you'd know why I was willing to promise her the moon," Ron chuckled.  
  
"Spare me," Harry frowned.   
  
The lift stopped on the sixth floor and the two men hurried to Hermione's office. Ron knocked, but opened the door as he was doing so.  
  
"Love bug-" he stopped speaking immediately, as four heads turned in his direction, five if you count the head belonging to his very red-faced wife.   
  
"Sorry," Ron muttered, and shot an apologetic look to Hermione. She smiled weakly.   
  
"Ah, Mr. Weasley!" exclaimed a short, thin man, as he stood and gestured for Ron to enter. "And Mr. Potter! Come in, come in!" This was Hermione's boss, Mr. Kirkpatrick. Ron often referred to the man as the ruddy egg-head ever since Hermione told him that he tried to take credit for some of her work. The two men stepped into the office hesitantly.  
  
"Close the door Mr. Potter," he said and Harry shot Ron a look, then closed the door.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Kirkpatrick, I just needed to give Herm-Mrs. Weasley a message. We have to be off to work now," Ron made to leave, but was halted.  
  
"Just a second dear boy," Kirkpatrick said, and Ron bit his lip against the remark he wanted to make, advising this pencil-neck that he was not a boy.   
  
"Let me introduce you. This is Mr. Hiro Yogisoku, the Asian Ambassador for Magical Affairs." A petite Asian man, with a large bald patch stood and bowed to Ron and Harry.   
  
"This is Mr. Nabulung Nbwatu, the representative from the African Council of Magic." A stocky African man with very dark skin and a round head stood and joyfully shook hands with Ron and Harry.   
  
"And this is Miss Sophie Teagarden, the American Liaison for Magical Cooperation." A tall, svelte woman with golden brown skin stood and extended her hand, first to Harry, then to Ron. Her hand was so velvety it almost felt as if she were caressing him when she gripped his hand. Ron was certain it was some type of potion or spell. Her bright amber eyes bore into him and he removed his hand quickly thinking it was a bit much that both he and Harry were to have rather forward women flirt with them less than ten minutes apart.   
  
"These two gentlemen were the first to wear the communicators," Mr. Kirkpatrick said, as Miss Teagarden took her seat and crossed her legs, causing an ample amount of her honey colored thigh to show through a split in her robes. Ron heard Hermione make a near silent tutting noise in her throat and he knew better than to even look in the direction of the leggy woman.   
  
"They wore the prototype for nearly a year while the upgrades were being tested," Kirkpatrick continued.   
  
"Wow, you two must be very brave to take a such risk!" Miss Teagarden purred and looked up at Ron with a dreamy expression. Harry was distinctly looking at a spot on the wall over her head, seeming to refuse to let his eyes fall in her direction. Ron would have laughed if her attentions hadn't seemed to be focused toward him.   
  
He heard Hermione move from behind her desk and come up beside him. He spared her a glance and almost gasped at how readable her face was, to him, at least. It was almost as if she had written across her forehead, _mess with my husband and I will hex you within an inch of your life_. Ron smiled. It was probably going to always be unbelievable to him that Hermione could get jealous; after all, it was only him.  
  
"No, it wasn't brave at all. I trust this woman with my life, and if she said it was safe, then that's all I needed to know," Ron reached out a hand and brushed a heavy strand of her hair behind her ear. It was a simple gesture, but it was so unbelievably intimate that the room seemed to disappear for a moment as Ron felt his body lean into her for a kiss.   
  
"Yeah," Harry cut in, and Ron pulled back before he could do something that would embarrass his wife forever. He silently thanked his best mate. "Hermione would never put us in danger."   
  
Miss Teagarden smiled, then uncrossed and re-crossed her legs in the other direction and the movement seemed to scream sex. Ron fleetingly wondered if the woman was part Veela, for every man in the room was being affected by her.   
  
Harry drank down his tea as if it were a glass of ice cold water. Ron however, did his best to behave as if he hadn't notice this and took the opportunity to give Hermione a little wink. She smiled, although her hands were still clenched into fists at her sides.   
  
"Give us a demonstration, would you?" Mr. Nbwatu asked and Hermione spoke up.  
  
"Well as I was saying earlier, there are several different ways to use the communicators," Hermione said, stepping closer to Ron. Harry stepped up beside her, placing her in the middle of the two men.   
  
"Because Ron and Harry are partners, their communicators are linked. They can find each other anywhere in the world," she turned to Ron. "Show them."   
  
Ron placed his bag of food on Hermione's desk, then sat his pumpkin juice beside it and grabbed the silver chain around his neck, pressing his thumb to the back of the medallion.   
  
After a second, he mumbled, "Locus Secuutus," he removed his hand and a beam of gold light shot out of the medallion and projected a three-dimensional hologram blueprint of one level of the Ministry of Magic. It was roughly the size of a large text book and hovered a few inches away from Ron. There was a small label in the corner that said, Ministry of Magic, sixth floor. A blue dot blinked in the corner of one of the tiny rooms.   
  
"Is that dot Mr. Potter?" Mr. Yogisoku asked peering at the hologram.   
  
"Yes," Ron said. "As you can see, the area is projected in gold which lets me know that there are wards up that will not allow me to Apparate to this location."   
  
Ron pointed his wand at the image and said, "Abundo." The hologram grew, and the entire Ministry of Magic appeared, continuing to glow gold, however, now there was a green ring around it.   
  
"The green area shows were I can safely Apparate. I can make the view more specific and it will show me how many people are around Harry," Ron mumbled another spell and five more blue dots appeared. "It will also show me Harry's physical state," Ron paused for a moment. "If he is critically hurt, this dot will glow red and if he is...is deceased it will glow white," Ron grabbed the medallion and whispered the counter charm causing the image to disappear.   
  
"We can also contact our Chief Auror for briefings. Harry and I can talk to each other though these as well. If we are in a situation where it is not safe to have a glowing map before us, we can shrink it to fit into the palm of our hand or to not give off a glow at all, but simple coordinates will appear on our hand if we want," Ron finished, feeling as though he was making a presentation in class.  
  
"And...and you created this, Mrs. Weasley?" Mr. Yogisoku asked in awe.   
  
"Yes sir," Hermione said softly.   
  
"How in the world did you come up with that?" Miss Teagarden asked not looking quite as flirty anymore.  
  
"Well-"  
  
"She came up with the first version of it in our fifth year at Hogwarts...charmed a Galleon," Harry chimed in, and Ron had almost forgotten he was in the room. The other members of the room goggled at Hermione, (even her boss) and they all appeared on the verge of spewing all kinds of questions at the Trio but Harry seemed to have other ideas.  
  
"Listen, we have to go. While I'm sure we'd love to hang about all day chatting you up, we actually have crime to stop," Harry said, and Ron thought it was a bit rude, but kept his mouth shut.   
  
Harry leaned forward and kissed Hermione's cheek then turned and abruptly left the room. Ron looked stunned for a moment, but then he said a polite goodbye, gave Hermione's hand a squeeze and left as well.  
   
Out in the hall, Ron caught up with Harry.  
  
"Hey! What's with you?"  
  
"Nothing, just got better things to do than dally about with stuffy old dodgers!"  
  
"Perhaps you do, but that's Hermione's job and being a rude git isn't helpful!" Ron said, slightly out of breath as they stepped on the crowded lift.   
  
"You were just trying to hang about and stare at that woman! If you'd stop thinking with your plonker for longer than a minute, you'd see that we were wasting valuable time!" Harry said loudly, in the extremely quiet lift. Ron could feel every eye in there on him.   
  
He literally bit his tongue to keep from calling Harry every curse word he could think of. He knew his face was a deep shade of red, because not only was he embarrassed by what Harry said, he was angry as hell!  
  
They stepped off the lift on the main floor and Ron realized that he left his food in Hermione's office. Now he was really furious! He was fully prepared to tear into Harry the minute they were out of earshot of any gossip hounds but Harry Disapparated the moment his feet stepped into the safe zone. Ron was hot on his heels, and the minute he popped into existence in the small village, he grabbed a handful of Harry's sleeve.   
  
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ron shouted, but Harry snatched his sleeve free from his grip and walked away.   
  
"Nothing is wrong with me!" Ron knew that was a lie and he said as much to Harry as he jogged to catch up.   
  
"Listen, I just don't fancy spending my day talking to some smelly old codger when we should be looking for the person who killed Sirius' uncle!" Harry shouted, increasing his pace even more.   
  
Ron took a breath. "That may be so, and I agree with you, I can think of a million other things I'd rather be doing, but that is still no reason to be so rude and that comment you made back in the lift was way out of line!"   
  
"Bloody hell, Ron! I already have a wife to nag me! Save it for Hermione ‘cause I don't want to hear it!" Ron was so stunned by Harry's response that it took a full minute to recover and by then, Harry was pushing open the door to Kadigen's Goods.  
  
When Ron entered the establishment, Harry was quickly approaching the front counter where Mr. Kadigen was helping a customer. Harry walked up behind the frumpy woman and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned with a startled jolt.  
  
"This is official Ministry business, please leave!" The woman and Kadigen goggled at Harry, along with Ron. Then the woman grabbed her package and bustled out of the door as quickly as she could.   
  
Ron stepped up quickly and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You all right, mate?" Harry ignored him and fixed his attention back on Kadigen.   
  
"I need to ask you some questions, and I'll only say this once; do not lie to me! I don't take well to liars, and you will surely be sorry if you do!" Mr. Kadigen's saggy face paled even more and the man hardly looked as though he could spare the color.   
  
"Harry!" Ron snapped, and tightened his grip on Harry's shoulder.   
  
"Not now, Ron!" Harry shook Ron's grip off and stepped closer to the counter.  
  
"Mr. Kadigen, you were seen at the home of Alphard Black yesterday, what is your relationship with him and what were you doing at his home?" Harry's bright green eyes bore into the old shop keeper as he looked around nervously.   
  
"I...he's a...customer, that's all," Kadigen nodded his head causing his jowls to quiver terribly. Harry gave an exasperated sigh, one that usually only appears after hours of interrogating someone with no results. Ron knew the sound well as he and Harry spent many hours together interrogating suspected Death Eaters to no avail sometimes.   
  
"Mr. Kadigen-" Ron started, thinking he needed to take control of the situation but Harry forcefully cut him off.  
  
"MR. KADIGEN! I think I said I was only going to tell you once about lying to me, but here I am telling you again, now..." Harry reached across the counter and clamped both hands onto the collar of Kadigen's moldy old robes, then practically pulled the old man across the counter.   
  
"HARRY!" Ron shouted, and immediately tried to pry Harry's hands off the terrified man. It was no use, Harry seemed to have cemented his grip onto the shopkeeper and nothing Ron was doing proved effective. Mr. Kadigen was screaming and yelling that Harry Potter was trying to kill him, and Ron knew he needed to do something quickly, otherwise people from the street were sure to come see what all the commotion was about.   
  
Ron threw his arm around Harry's neck and pulled with all his might. He knew he was choking Harry, but he needed to get him off this man; this was insane! Finally, as Ron threw all his weight backward, Harry's hands were pulled free, leaving the shopkeeper's robes even more tattered than before. All three men were wheezing hard, and Kadigen's leaky eyes were as wide as saucers.   
  
"I'll...I'll report you...you tried to kill me!" Kadigen shouted. Ron could feel Harry wriggling in his grip with what Ron assumed was an attempt to get hold of Mr. Kadigen again, but it wasn't. 

Before Ron could even blink, Harry had his wand in his hand and had shouted, "ABSCIDO MINVO!"   
  
The old man's throat tore open and blood sprayed onto the counter before him. Kadigen had a wistful sort of expression on his face as he keeled forward, hit his head on the counter and slumped to the floor out of view.   
  
Harry broke free of Ron's, now slack grip, and bolted for the door. Ron's entire body shook as he tried to comprehend what the hell just happened. All the blood drained from his face; as surely he had not just witnessed Harry murder a man. But then his Auror training seemed to slap him in the face. Ron moved with haste and ran behind the counter.   
  
He pointed his wand at Kadigen's throat and said, "Curatio Pecuro!" The man's throat closed immediately and Ron crouched beside him to check for breathing. He almost passed out from joy when he saw the faint rise and fall of his chest. Then he reached inside his robe pocket and pulled out a small vile filled with red liquid.   
  
"Mr. Kadigen, can you hear me?" It was silent, and Ron could hear the faint sounds of someone being violently ill outside and somehow he knew it was Harry.   
  
"Mr. Kadigen?" Ron tried again, and the old man opened his mouth a little but no words came out. However, all Ron needed at the moment was his open mouth as he uncorked the potion and poured the contents down the shop keeper's throat.   
  
Kadigen coughed and sputtered, but swallowed most of the blood replenishing potion. Then a moment later his color seemed to come back to normal, or at least normal for him. He looked up at Ron and his watery eyes grew wide.  
  
"Po-Potter tried t-to kill me!" he rasped, and even as weak as he looked, the accusation was strong and clear. Ron's heartbeat doubled in speed. Although he had no clue what the hell was happening, he knew something was wrong with Harry and he needed to find out what that was before he allowed this to go any further.  
  
Ron looked down at Kadigen as he continued his wide-eyed accusatory rant. He truly couldn't believe what he was about to do. His hands shook terribly as he began to point his wand at the old man, so much so that Ron actually dropped his wand, something he hadn't done since he'd left Hogwarts. Then again, he was about to do something that he had never done before, not even during war.   
  
Mr. Kadigen seemed to know that Ron was about to do something to him and he began to feebly call for help. However, his voice was almost completely gone, and Ron quickly raised his wand then mumbled, "Obliviate...Septem," effectively removing the last seven minutes of the man's memory.   
  
Kadigen's fear-filled face went slack and his mouth drooped. Ron saw two booted-feet appear in front of him and looked up with a jolt. Harry stood before him looking very green and the front of his robes was soaked with vomit.   
  
Ron thought he would soon be joining Harry because he felt positively sick by what he had just done, but he was now moving like a man possessed. He leaned forward and whispered false memories in to Kadigen's ear. Then he stood and nearly swooned, his head was swimming and his legs felt like jelly. Harry sagged against the counter and Ron wanted to grab him and shake him and ask him what the fuck was wrong with him! But he merely waved his wand and cleared up the blood that had prayed on the counter.  
  
"What happened?" Harry asked weakly, but Ron barely heard him he was so engrossed in his damage control. Ron grabbed the communicator around his neck and whispered, "Conloquium." There was a slight humming sound, and then Ron said, "Chief Weinpret."  
  
A second later a booming voice sprang from the medallion. "Go ahead, Weasley."  
  
"Sir, I need assistance at Kadigen's Goods."  
  
"What the hell happened?"   
  
"Um, well Mr...Mr. Kadigen fell and hi-hit his head on the counter," technically that wasn't a lie. "So I need a healer unit and um, Potter is sick so...so he needs to go home."  
  
"Home?" Weinpret repeated as if he didn't understand the word. You really had to be nearly dead to leave work early in Weinpret's eyes.   
  
"Yes Sir, he's vomiting...projectile-like and he can't possibly question anyone else in this state." Ron glanced at Harry and the man looked as though he were about to retch again.   
  
"Fine, I'll send you a replacement," the Chief stated, and just as he said that a loud pop revealed a thin, uptight looking woman with crisp robes and the St. Mungo's emblem on her lapel. She stepped forward and looked between Harry and Kadigen a few times and apparently decided that Kadigen was in greater need. She knelt beside him and began her treatment.   
  
Ron could hear Kadigen mumbling to the healer that he'd hit his head and now he was a bit confused. Ron was never so grateful for a head wound in his life. At least it would explain his dazed and confused behavior so no one would suspect a memory charm. Another crack and Tonks appeared beside Ron.  
  
"Wotcher Ron!" she said, and then did a double take at Harry. "Blimey mate, you look like hell," she stepped over to him and placed a hand on his cheek, then wrinkled her nose.  
  
"You smell awfully bad, Harry," then she looked down and seemed to recognize the substance on his robes. She stepped back. "Perhaps you should go, Harry. You must have that bug Remus had a few weeks ago, he had it shooting out of both ends," Tonks said, conversationally.   
  
"Oi, Madam healer?" Tonks gave a shout, and the stern looking woman glared up at the Auror. "Got anything for my mate here, he's in an awful state?" The healer fixed her eyes on Harry again and her face went even tighter, if that were possible, for she already looked as though she was sucking on a lemon. However, she reached in her bag and handed Tonks a vial containing a shimmering gold liquid.   
  
"He has to drink it all and it will make him sleepy, so it's best he do it at home." Tonks nodded, and handed it to Harry.   
  
"Got that mate?" she asked. Harry looked at her like he scarcely understood that the words she was speaking were English.  
  
"Wha-what happened?" he asked again, and Ron knew Harry was looking at him, but he was deliberately avoiding his eyes. Another crack and Ron looked to his left to see that Douglas had just Apparated. Great, that's all he needed right now.   
  
"What's going on here?" Douglas asked, looking around.  
  
"Everything's under control. Harry's sick and is going home. Tonks will finish the assignment with me. You are not needed," Ron said.  
  
"Don't tell me when I'm needed! I'm the senior officer here!" Douglas growled, and took a careful look around. Ron knew the stocky man noticed how badly his hands were still shaking. It was a tell-tail sign that all was not what it seemed. Tonks would not notice this because she trusted Ron and Harry. Douglas took one last look at Harry then a long lingering look at Ron and said, "Fine, have it your way," then he was gone with a loud crack.   
  
"Arse!" Tonks said, to the space where Douglas just was, then rolled her eyes. Ron now had a knot in his stomach so big it was threatening to cause him to collapse. He knew Douglas was suspicious, but he had no time and no more room in his brain to concern himself over it now.   
  
Tonks took Harry by the arm and guided him toward the large fireplace. "I don't think we should be letting you Apparate in this state."   
  
Ron walked over to the fireplace as Harry took a trembling handful of Floo powder and stepped onto the hearth. He turned and locked eyes with Ron for an agonizing moment, then threw down the powder and rasped, "Potter's Cove," then in a green whoosh, he was gone.   
  
"Come on, he'll be all right, Ron. Let's finish up here and then move on. I know you're worried about him, but trust me, after a bit of rest, he'll be right as rain," Tonks smiled, and gave Ron's arm a pat before she headed off to check on the healer and Mr. Kadigen.   
  
Ron simply stared at the spot where Harry had stood in the fireplace. Yes, he was worried about his mate, but not for the reasons Tonks thought. What had happened here today was enough to definitely get both of them sacked or worse, an extended stay in Azkaban.  


 

AN: Thank you so much for reading. I hope you all can see there is a reason for Harry's ooc behavior. I hope you all come back and read the rest. It's really getting fun to write. I have to thank my beta, Jamie. I will get better at seeing all those little read comma, I promise! You Rock!

Please leave a review...it will make me smile! :-) 


	3. Chapter 3 ~ Fear

**Chapter 3 ~ Fear**

Harry fell clumsily out of the fireplace and landed on his knees. His stomach felt like it had been wrung out and set on fire. As he staggered to his feet, he could hear the many students in the rooms to his left. He did not want to be seen, but instantly knew it was too late, as he heard a sharp gasp come from his right.

He looked over and saw Caroline, Ethan’s mother, standing in the archway of the kitchen. Harry knew he must have looked like walking death, but he was not too concerned with his appearance at the moment.

Caroline rushed toward him and attempted to offer a hand, but Harry recoiled. He could only imagine what was wrong with him, and the last thing he wanted was to get her sick as well.

 “Harry, let me help you upstairs,” she said, and made a move to take his arm again.  

“No, I’ve got it,” his voice came out gruff because he was extremely parched. When he went to take a step, his weak legs failed him and Harry stumbled forward.

“Oh God!” Caroline began to help him again, but then seemed to remember that he didn’t want her help. “I’ll go get Ginny.”

“No!” Harry shouted. For some reason, he could not face Ginny just yet. He had yet to wrap his mind around what he’d done, so he was certainly not ready to be bombarded with a million questions.

“Just…just give me a hand up the steps, please,” he said feebly, and Caroline seemed to sigh in relief. She was a sturdy woman, but still quite feminine. Just as tall as Harry, it often made him wonder if Ethan’s father was short, because the boy had tiny features and he certainly did not get them from her. In fact, with her strawberry blonde hair, she hardly bore any resemblance to her beloved son at all. There were small things, of course, but only if one were really looking. Harry seemed to be clinging to any thought that would keep his mind off the previous events.

Caroline hoisted Harry up with a firm grip under his armpit, then she threw his arm over her shoulder, and they began to make their way to the stairs. Harry knew he smelt awful, but if Caroline noticed, she made no indication.

“Sorry,” Harry said. “I know I smell horrid,” He grimaced as he said that. His mouth tasted like rust and curdled milk.

“You’re fine. Remember, I work in a pub. At least you don’t have terrible body odor on top of the vomit,” she snorted, and Harry was grateful that she was not treating him as if she were walking him to his death bed. She was a strong woman and he liked that about her. It reminded him of Ginny.

“I just stopped by to see Ethan, I missed him terribly. Last night was my first night without him, you see.” Harry nodded, weakly.

She rambled on as they stepped into the bedroom, and Harry was all set to collapse on the bed, but Caroline stopped him.

“Do you really want to lie on your bed in those soiled robes?” She was right, he did not want to smell up his bed, but there was no way he’d make it through a shower.

Caroline reached up hesitant hands and unfastened the silver clasp on Harry’s navy blue, standard issue Auror robes. She pulled them off his shoulders, and then held them between her fingers as if she didn’t want to really touch them. He couldn’t say he blamed her. With a flick of her wand, the stains disappeared, then with another flick, Harry could smell a crisp clean scent. She pointed her wand at him and there was a freshly laundered aroma coming from him now. He was eternally grateful.

“Thank you,” Harry slurred, as he fell upon the bed.

“It was nothing, get some rest,” she made to leave, but Harry stopped her.

“Caroline, there is a potion in my pocket. Can you leave it on the night-table, please?” His eyes were already closed, but he heard her set it down and leave the room.

Harry’s stomach was killing him, and it was more than simply being empty from retching. Stabbing pains ran through it, and it was burning terribly. He knew he should take the potion the healer had given him, but that would require him to roll over and actually exert some energy, that he didn’t have.

Just as he thought that, he heard the faint patter of footsteps padding on the stairs and knew that Caroline had told Ginny that he was home sick. Sure enough, a moment later, he heard a familiar gasp from his wife, and then felt her as she flopped on the bed.

“Harry! What’s wrong?” She rolled him over and gasped again. Harry reasoned that he probably looked like a corpse; he certainly felt like one.

“Sick,” was all he could mumble.

“Sick? But you never get sick!” Harry remained silent. Really, what could he say to that? _Yeah, I do get sick, just not often and never like this._

“Potion,” he gestured to the night-table and felt Ginny move. He had yet to be able to open his eyes. She placed her hand on his forehead and it felt soft and warm to him. It caused him to sigh and relax a bit.

“You don’t feel warm, you actually feel cool and clammy. What is this stuff?” she asked, and Harry was really starting to wonder why she was expecting him to talk. Surely she could tell that it was difficult for him.

“Healer, gave it…,” he was unable to get out more, as the stabbing pain in his stomach had just twisted, and Harry curled in on himself.

“What is it, Harry?” her voice sounded slightly panicked, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Nothing…just…need…potion.”

“Here, turn this way,” she said, taking his face in her hands. Harry turned toward her and opened his mouth. Ginny poured the entire vial down his throat, and Harry almost retched again at the overly sweet taste. But then the stabbing stopped, and only the burning remained. He could live with that, for now.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, and saw his wife smiling down on him like an angel. He smiled weakly in return. She brushed his hair out of his face and kissed his forehead. Harry looked over at the clock and his eyes went wide for a second.

“Is that the right time?” he croaked. Ginny nodded. “I was only at work for an hour?” Ginny nodded again, then took off his glasses and gave her wand a wave. Harry was now in fresh pajamas and warm socks. He could feel the potion taking effect as it was getting extremely difficult to keep his eyes open. In fact, by the time Ginny pulled the blanket up over him, he was fast asleep.

*****

Harry opened his eyes and thought for a moment that he had gone blind, but soon he realized that it was simply very late at night. His next most immediate realization was that he was alone. He rolled over and groped blindly for his glasses, however, when he found them, they did not do much good. The room was shrouded in darkness.

Harry reached for his wand, happy that Ginny had placed it in its normal location, right beside the bed. He gave it a casual flick and the room was bathed in candlelight. With heavy legs, Harry got up out of bed and trudged to the bathroom.

He lit more candles, and nearly screamed when he caught his own reflection. His skin was a sickly combination of gray and chalk-white. His eyes were puffy and red, and his hair was standing out in great tuffs in every direction. Well, that wasn’t actually too different from how it normally looked, but combined with the other things, it made him look all the more dreadful.

 Harry brushed his teeth, then cleaned his face with the hottest water he could stand hoping it would give him some colour. He knew that if Ginny saw him like that, she’d be insisting that he go straight to St. Mungo’s, and that was the last place Harry wanted to be. He realized that he felt oddly full, and surmised that it must be the potion because he knew his stomach was quite empty. Although it was still burning slightly and his throat felt raw, he was not in any real pain. 

Once he had himself looking alive, at least, Harry went to find Ginny. As he passed the Grandfather clock in the hall, he realized that it was not really too late at all, just a quarter passed ten.

He found Ginny downstairs, sitting at the kitchen table with rolls of parchment scattered about. He knew she was marking assignments. She jumped slightly when she looked up and saw him in the kitchen.  

“Oh! You startled me,” she smiled sweetly, and was on her feet in an instant.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled as she pressed her hand on his forehead. He closed his eyes and was slightly amazed at how her touch could calm him so completely. Then he felt her lips brush against his, and his eyes flew open, as he stepped back abruptly.

“Don’t, I don’t know what I have, it may be contagious,” he said, and Ginny nodded, but still looked a bit hurt.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t want to get you sick and then you’d have to be away from the children and all,” Harry followed up, and Ginny smiled again, but still walked back to the table and took her seat.

“Are you feeling better? Do you want some food? You must be starved. Are you going to work in the morning? I think you should stay out for another day or two. I’m sure Ron could cover for you.”

_Ron!_ Harry thought, as Ginny’s barrage of questions seem to awaken the memory of what had happened earlier. Oh God! He was panicked now. _What did I do? Why did I do it? How could I have forgotten that?!_ He needed to talk to Ron and piece together what the hell had happened earlier.

“I…I have to…to go,” Harry stumbled in a daze, and moved toward the fireplace.

“Go where?” Ginny was on her feet and moving toward him quickly.

“I need to talk to Ron, find out what…what happened today,” he grabbed a handful of Floo powder.

“Harry! This can wait until morning! You are in no condition to go spinning through the Floo network!” but Harry was already stepping into the green flames and shouting out Ron’s address.

“Damn it, Harry!” was the last thing he heard as he began to spin his way to Ron’s home.

*****

Ron stood in the hot shower flow, hoping that it would wash away one of the worst days of his life. He could barely remember how he finished the rest of his shift with Tonks because he was hardly coherent.

Tonks took over interviewing the members of the small town and Ron stood beside her pretending to listen, when in actuality, his mind was far away replaying the incident at Kadigen’s Goods.

_Harry had been so frustrated…no, he was irritated…no, he was angry_. Ron thumped his fist on the shower wall. He really couldn’t wrap his mind around what Harry actually _was_ , except out of control. His stomach churned loudly, a combination of hunger and anxiety. But every time he thought of eating, he felt quite queasy.

Ron had managed to get pass Hermione with a simple kiss to the cheek and one-word answers to her usual questions before he excused himself to the shower. However, he knew that he would not be able to get away with that once he got out. She would surely think it odd that he was not hungry, and if she found out that he had no sex drive at the moment, she might just want to check him into St. Mungo’s. Ron sat down in the tub and let the shower water beat on him fiercely. Before long he heard Hermione open the bathroom door.

“Ron? Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he answered before he thought about it, for if he had, he would have stood up, knowing that Hermione would truly think it odd that his voice was coming from low down in the tub. Since no one takes a shower sitting down, unless something is wrong, it would certainly spark some curiosity. He was not at all surprised when the shower curtain jerked open and Hermione stood before him with concern etched into her features.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been in here for over an hour, Ron. Something is the matter and you had better tell me,” her eyes fluttered across his red face as if they were chasing a fly, and Ron knew that she was searching his features for some sign of illness.

“It’s nothing,” he said again. Hermione reached into the shower and turned off the water, without regard for her nightdress, which got quite soaked.

“Are you ill?” she put her hand to his forehead. “You feel okay, is it your stomach?”

“I’m fine, love…just…just a bad day, is all.” Hermione studied him for a moment longer.

“Like yesterday? What happened? Do you want to talk about it?” she waited and watched him as he thought it over. _Should I tell her?_ But before he could speak, Hermione moved.

“Or…” she began, then climbed into the bathtub with him and straddled his hips. “…do you want me to help you forget again?”

A flirty smile played at her mouth, then she leaned forward and kissed him with a soft moan. Her tongue pushed gently into his mouth and she caressed his tongue with her own.

“ _Mmmm_ ,” she moaned again. “I love your lips,” she sucked the bottom one into her mouth. “Some days, I wish I could take them to work with me,” she smiled wide.  “I often sit at my desk dreaming about your lips. They are so delicious.” Ron kissed her.

He knew what she was trying to do. Clearly she’d thought his bad day was playing with his self-confidence, so she was giving him her ego boosting kiss and Merlin, Ron loved her for it. Unfortunately, today was about a little more than a bruised ego. Hermione pulled back slightly and looked down between them.  

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Hmm? What?” Ron asked, playing dumb convincingly.

“Well, it’s…it’s normally bigger by now,” she said. Ron glanced down at his sad looking cock as it lay limply between his legs. Hermione looked up at him with a slightly hurt expression. True, normally Hermione would scarcely need to look at him twice, and Ron would be hard enough to cut glass. For a man like him, however, sex was just as much a mental thing as it was physical, and right now his mind was a bloody mess.

“Sorry, love bug, it’s not you…I just…can’t tonight,” he whispered sadly, then bent his legs, bringing his knees up so her body slipped closer to him. Hermione looked at him as if she couldn’t quite understand what he was saying. Ron knew this had to be unprecedented territory for her because anytime they did not have sex, it was because of _her_ , and even that was nearly unheard of ever since they’d had their _four days of fantasies_ over a year and a half ago. Ron let his head slump forward, and rested it on her shoulder.

“Ron, please talk to me, tell me what’s wrong,” she said. Her voice was nervous and filled with concern. Ron’s head remained where it was and he took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He wanted to talk to her, but Merlin, he could not tell her what he had done or what Harry had done, because his world would come to an end if she lost respect for him.

“Ron,” Hermione whispered, and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“Okay,” he breathed. “But…but you have to turn around.” He gripped her hips in an attempt to lift her off his lap, but Hermione held firm to his shoulders.

“What?”

“Please Hermione, if I tell you this, I can’t say it to your face, so please turn around.” Ron spared her a glance, and was not surprised to see that she looked absolutely terrified, so he dropped his head again quickly. He pushed her hips once more.

“Stop it, Ron,” she said firmly, but quietly. Then she took his chin in her hand and lifted his head. “Look at me,” she whispered. Ron reluctantly let his eyes meet hers.

“I don’t know what you have to say to me, but there is _nothing_ you can tell me that will ever make me turn my back on you!” Her gaze was fierce and it held him soundly. He took a moment to allow the lump in his throat to disappear. Merlin, he loved her.

Where to begin? Ron took a breath and just started speaking. The whole story spilled out of him in a matter of minutes. Hermione sat quietly, not interrupting him once, which was very uncharacteristic of her.  

“I don’t know what happened, Hermione, but he just…just attacked Mr. Kadigen,” Ron finished, after he had told her the worst of it.

“I was so shocked, and out of my mind, and Kadigen was shouting that Harry had tried to kill him, which in fact he _had_ , that I just did _it_ without even thinking of the consequences. Not for me anyway, just what was going to happen to Harry.”

“Did what?” Hermione’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Ron swallowed hard, and knew that what he was about to say could possibly change his relationship forever, but they were honest with each other if nothing else.

“I Obliviated him,” his voice had almost failed him, but he chanced a glace at her, and found eyes that were sad, and frightened, but not angry or even disappointed. It was almost as if she was deep in thought. She wore that expression she often had at Hogwarts, right before she tore off to the library. Ron could hardly believe that this was the only reaction he was going to get out of her, and his face must have showed it.

“I knew you were going to say that,” she replied, quietly. “I…I had a feeling…at least, I _hoped_ that’s what you were going to say as opposed to the other option…finishing what Harry started,” Ron gasped, the thought of killing Kadigen had never even entered his mind, and it almost made him sick on his stomach to think that, even for a fleeting moment, Hermione could have thought that a possibility.

His hands shook terribly as he rested them along Hermione’s sides. He wondered when this terrible habit had started. Perhaps too much war and death had been the cause of what was surely, now a nervous condition. But he had more to say, and this part he truly did not want to speak. He hadn’t even allowed himself to think it longer than a second, but it was there, and it was eating at him. If anyone could make him feel better or see reason, it was his perfect wife.

“Hermione,” he sighed. “In all the years I’ve known Harry, through all the things that have happened, even when people were thinking he was Salazar Slytherin’s heir, or when he thought he was being possessed by Voldemort, I was never once worried.” Ron shook his head, and looked up at Hermione with watery eyes. Her face fell, as she seemed to know what Ron was about to say.

“But to-today, Hermione,” he whispered, “for the first time since I’ve known him…I was…af-afraid of… _Harry_.” There, it was out, and Ron almost wanted cut his tongue out for having said it. Hermione whimpered and rested her head on his shoulder. He squeezed her tight, and felt his eyes burn with unshed tears.

To fear Harry was to fear himself, because he trusted Harry like he trusted himself. Never in his life had he ever wondered about Harry’s fortitude to place good over evil. He worried about him running off, and getting himself killed, yes…absolutely…all the time, but worried that he would hurt others? Never!

Harry was loyal and noble to a fault, but today, they had both crossed the line, and Ron wondered if this was how it happened with evil people. Were they once good and moral, then one truly immoral act led them down a slippery slope, to where there was no hope of redemption? Ron prayed that was not so.

Off in the distance, he heard the _whoosh_ from someone Flooing into the fireplace, and was on his feet in an instant. Hermione squeaked as she slipped from his lap. Ron had already stepped out of the bathtub, and was pulling his trousers up his wet legs, with his wand in his hand, before she could right herself and step out of the tub. He moved into the bedroom, and edged his way to the door as Hermione caught up with him.

“Get your wand,” he whispered.

“It’s probably only Harry,” Hermione whispered back.

“Right!” Ron said, as if to say… _I know…get...your...wand!_ Hermione gasped.

“Ron!” she hissed, and gripped his arm. “I will not pull my wand on Harry! I _will not_ fear him!” Her eyes filled with tears instantly. “He’s… _Harry_! He’s like my…no, he _is_ my brother,” her chin trembled, and Ron could have died on the spot. How could he call this man _his_ brother, and yet want to pull his wand on him? He lowered his arm, and then his head.

“I’m sorry, you’re right.”

 “Ron?” He heard Harry timidly call him from the sitting room. Ron swallowed, stuck his wand in his pocket, and stepped out of the bedroom to go meet his best mate. Hermione was right behind him.  

When they reached the sitting room, Ron heard Hermione gasp as she pushed past him and rushed toward Harry. Ron made to stop her, but she slipped from him without effort. Harry looked awful, and Ron wondered if he knew or cared that he looked like a ghost. Hermione hadn’t got within two feet of him, before Harry raised his arm and halted her.

“Hermione don’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and if it’s contagious, I don’t want to get you sick,” he said, but Ron knew it was a waste of Harry’s breath because Hermione would not be deterred. She simply brushed his outstretched arm aside and wrapped him in her arms.

Harry’s eyes closed, and Ron thought he looked as if he hadn’t ever been hugged like that, which Ron knew was not the case. Harry’s arms gripped Hermione’s waist and he didn’t seem to want to let go.

“Are you feeling better?” Ron heard Hermione ask, but her voice was muffled into Harry’s shoulder. Harry nodded, then released her. She touched his face.

“You look so pale, and tired. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Yeah, I took a potion,” he whispered, “and I just woke up. I’ve been asleep all day…” He sighed, and Ron noticed that Harry was indeed still in his pajamas and socks. “…so I suppose I’m a bit out of sorts,” he gave her a weak smile.

“I…I really need to speak with Ron, though. Is that all right?” Harry asked, Hermione turned and looked at Ron, then back to Harry. She nodded, kissed him on the cheek, and stepped away.

“I’ll meet you in the garden,” Harry said, and exited the room. Hermione stared after him for a moment, and then turned to Ron.

“Ron, he’s frightened. Don’t go out there acting as though you are afraid of him.”

“Hermione, I don’t want to feel this way! Don’t you think it’s killing me to be afraid of him?” he snapped in a hushed tone, then turned and went back to the bedroom to put on some dry clothes. Hermione was on his heels.

“I’m just saying, try your best to act normal. You know how he gets. If he thinks he is in trouble, he’ll shut us out or run away, and we don’t want that!” Ron pulled his jumper over his head and turned to her, his hair sticking out in every direction, now.

“I know Hermione! Fuck! Don’t you think I know that about him?” he breathed, and flopped on the bed to put on his trainers. “I don’t want to be afraid, but the fact of the matter is, _I am_! I don’t know what happened to him today, but it was _not_ Harry!” Ron paused, then decided that he’d better share it all and then maybe she wouldn’t look at him as though he were being a supreme git for feeling this way about his best mate in the whole world.

“Yesterday, the reason why my day was so bad is because we went to a house where all three members of the family were dead…their throats were cut.” Hermione gasped, and shook her head as if willing it not to be true, Ron continued.

“It was the same way Harry cut Kadigen’s throat this morning,” Ron stared up at her, waiting for her to say something, but Hermione simply looked terrified with her hand clamped over her mouth.

“There was a _red_ Dark Mark over the house,” he finished, and Hermione’s face flashed even more terror, then changed instantly. He knew she was turning over hundreds of questions in her head, and answering them just as quickly.

“What does that mean?” she asked, and Ron was slightly disappointed. He’d almost hoped she would say something very Hermione-like, and tell him that red Dark Marks were completely benevolent, then go get a book and prove it to him.

“How the hell should I know?” he snapped. “All I know is, I’ve never heard that curse Harry used to cut that man’s throat, and I’ve never seen a red Dark Mark before either! I don’t like this…any of it.”

“Well, what was the curse?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t know…Ab-Abs-something. I don’t know.”

“Abscido Minvo,” came Harry’s mumbled voice from the bedroom door. Ron was on his feet in a flash, heart pumping frantically, as Hermione whirled around. However, once Ron saw Harry’s face, he felt like dying. Harry looked on the verge of tears. Fortunately, Hermione recovered fast and moved to him, taking his hand in hers. Ron had to admire her, she didn’t seem at all afraid. Perhaps it was because she didn’t actually witness it.

“Come, sit,” Hermione lead him to the bed, and Harry perched on the edge in a daze.

“What does it mean, Harry? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that curse either,” she asked.

Harry looked up at her with wide eyes. “It obviously means to cut someone’s _throat_! That’s what it did, after all.”

 “Right,” Hermione said meekly, and she wore that expression she got whenever she asked a stupid question.

“Well, where did you learn it?” she followed up, and Ron bit his lip, hoping Harry would not say the Half-Blood Prince because he knew Hermione would lose her mind.

“I don’t know…I…honestly had never heard it…before I said it,” Harry said quietly, and Ron almost wished he had said it was from that ratty old potions book. As much as he was happy that Harry had learned his lesson from what happened sixth year it was infinitely worse that he was using spells that he’d never heard of and had no clue where they came from. Hermione sat beside him, and Harry moved away from her suddenly.

“Hermione, please, I don’t want to get you sick,” he whinged, but she ignored him and slid closer.

“Harry, I really don’t think the reason you got sick had anything to do with germs or a virus. I think it was simply a reaction to what you did.” The two men gaped at her.“Honestly,” she seemed to struggle not to roll her eyes. “Studies have shown that people have physical reactions to highly traumatic events all the time.”

“I know I almost retched,” Ron muttered. Harry looked at Hermione, and the first signs of relief began to grace his face. Ron sat on the bed as well, on the other side of Hermione. The three friends stared straight ahead in silence for a long while.

Ron knew that Hermione was deep in thought, Harry was probably drowning in his guilt and _Ron_ …well he was trying desperately to wake up from this nightmare. Harry broke the silence, speaking so low that it barely registered. Ron, however, heard him loud and clear, because it was the one question he had been dreading.

“You…you Obliviated him…why?” Harry asked, still looking forward. Ron glanced beside him and took a quick look at Hermione, then cleared his throat.

“Had to,” he swallowed thickly. “He…he was shouting that you had tried to kill him, and I couldn’t let him tell anyone before I knew what was happening.” Ron stood up, and started to pace in front of Hermione and Harry. Only now was he actually piecing together the reasons behind his actions. At the time, he was moving on pure instinct, fueled by fear and adrenaline.

“I just wanted him to forget. Not only for your sake, but for his own…it was awful,” Ron finished, and wished he hadn’t said that last part, for Harry hung his head and looked on the verge of tears again. “Sorry, mate. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Ron said. Harry shook his head.

“It’s fine. I should feel bad. I’m sorry…for everything. I’m sorry for what I said to you in the lift too. I was just so irritated, and then angry, and I don’t know why,” Harry looked up and caught Ron’s eye. Ron had completely forgotten about that. Even now, he was having a hard time remembering exactly what Harry had said.

“I’m sorry I put you in a position that you had to use a nearly illegal spell on someone. I wish you hadn’t.” Harry sighed. To Obliviate someone now was to nearly use an Unforgivable on them. It was strictly used by the Ministry, and although that meant Aurors had permission to use it at their discretion, it was primarily used when Muggles were exposed to their world. To use it as Ron had would certainly be considered a misuse.

 “I think I should turn myself in to Chief Weinpret, tell him what happened, and accept my punishment,” Harry mumbled. 

“What? No!” Ron shouted. “You can’t do that, Harry! Do you know what your punishment would be? Azkaban! Do you want to go there?”

“That’s where I belong!” Harry stood. “I broke the law! I committed a murder!”

“No, you didn’t! Kadigen is not dead!” Ron was now red in the face.

“Only because _you_ were there! So then, its attempted murder, and I still need to be locked away!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Harry! I’m not going though this shite with you! If you want to throw yourself on the sword for some shite you don’t even understand yet, then so be it, just know that I’ll be sharing the cell with you!” Ron was so angry with Harry, he wanted to punch him. He wondered, fleetingly, where his fear had vanished to, and felt oddly happy that Harry had angered him so, because now things felt a bit more normal.

“What…what do you mean?” Harry asked, chest still puffed out from the shouting match.

“If you’re guilty of attempted murder then I am just as guilty of covering it up! I was the one who did the memory charm!” Ron jabbed himself in the chest with his thumb. “ _I’m_ the one who feed Kadigen the false memories, and _I’m_ the one who lied to the Chief! ME! So when you decide you want to play the martyr, think about the other people it will affect.” They both stared at each other, panting, and then they looked at Hermione. She was still sitting on the bed, however now, she had tears streaming down her face.

She was breathing hard, and looked as if it was a struggle to keep from launching into a full-bellied wail. Despite that, she calmly stood, wiped her face and said, “I don’t want to hear another word about either of you going to Azkaban!” she sniffed. “Something happened today, and it will remain in this room until we’ve figured out exactly what caused it. There is no way anyone will ever convince me that you…” she poked Harry in the chest, “…would do that of your own volition!” She breathed, and the two men waited obediently for her to compose herself and finish.

“Tomorrow, I will look up that curse and figure out its origins. That will tell us something, hopefully,” she turned to Harry. “You will try to remember as much about yesterday as possible…from the time you woke up until the time you got to that man’s shop. I will also see if I can find any information on red Dark Marks.” At this, Harry shot Ron a look. Ron simply shrugged, although he knew that information was strictly classified, and he shouldn’t have told Hermione, he’d had to.

“I tell my wife everything,” Ron replied, and was instantly sorry he had said it, because Harry looked quite ashamed suddenly, and Ron knew that was probably because Ginny was in the dark about everything that had happened. He was certainly not trying to imply that he had a better relationship with Hermione than Harry had with Ginny. It was simply a fact that he was almost physically incapable of keeping things from his wife.

Harry was simply the type to keep things locked in, lest he be a burden to someone. Hermione must have sensed Harry’s shame, and in her need to protect him, she turned to Ron and said, “You do not. As I recall, you walked around for over half a year not _telling_ me everything, but writing it in a journal!” Ron looked down, and mumbled an apology to Harry, thinking it unwise to point out to Hermione that they were not actually _married_ at the time he was writing in his journal constantly.

“Now, Harry, go home and get some sleep. I’ll let you know what I find out tomorrow,” Hermione ordered. He nodded. “Are you going to tell Ginny? I don’t want to come by and say something that I shouldn’t,” she asked, and Harry simply shrugged.

“She’s not going to like it if she’s the only one who doesn’t know.”

“I know, but I…I can’t say anything to her tonight. I’ll try to tell her tomorrow,” he mumbled.

“But—”

“Hermione, leave it. He’ll talk to her when he’s ready,” Ron said, sympathizing with his mate, for he’d been struggling with the same thing a short while ago. How do you tell the one person you love the most in the world that, something that could change your relationship forever? And Ron knew it was worse for Harry because he’d actually been the one who did the awful thing. Hermione seemed to understand and let it go. She stepped forward and kissed Harry on the cheek. He smiled, tiredly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ron.” Harry said, and walked toward the bedroom door.

“What…are you going in to work?” Ron asked, a bit perplexed.

“Yeah. I’m not really sick, and if I stay home, I’ll drive myself crazy.”

Ron nodded, but wasn’t sure how he felt about Harry showing up for work. He was still slightly worried that he’d turn himself in. Ron knew if he pressed the issue, it would only cause another argument.

“G’night,” Harry muttered, and left. Ron heard the _whoosh_ as Harry Flooed home. Then he flopped down on the bed exhaustedly. Merlin, how he wanted this day to be over.

*****

 

Harry Flooed into a completely dark home. Ginny usually left a candle burning for him, but she was probably angry at the way he left, so he could expect no niceties. He took a drink of water before he went up to bed, and realized that he was not thirsty at all. Had to have been the potion and he was thankful for it.

He found Ginny in the bed with her back to him. He slipped off his socks and got in. Harry was almost scared to touch her, but he needed to make sure she was not angry. This was not going to be the second night in a row that they went to bed on less than happy terms. He ghosted his hand across the curve of her hip, and she moved it off her immediately, then scooted closer to the edge. Yeah, she was angry.

“Gin,” Harry started, and slid closer. This time when he touched her, he snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him.

“Get off me, Harry!” she shouted, and buried her face in the pillow.

“Gin, I’m sorry. I just needed to talk to Ron.” At this she whipped her head around, and the look on her face made Harry move back for fear that she might punch him. She rolled over on her back and propped herself up on her elbows.

“You needed to talk to Ron!” she shouted. “I’m your bloody wife! Talk to me! I was the one who sat by your bed for two hours this afternoon, making sure you were comfortable, and just the right temperature, and wasn’t in anymore pain! I’m the one who changed your pajamas _twice_ because you sweated through them! Not Ron!” Her voice cut through him and Harry sat up so he could be eye level with her, but then hung his head in shame.

“Gin, I’m sorry. I just needed—”

“Save it!” she turned back over and punched her pillow a few times in an attempt to fluff it, but Harry knew she was picturing his face. “Go snuggle up with my brother since you seem to prefer him so.” Harry stared at the back of her for a few moments. Then with the quickness of a natural born Seeker, he had his arms and legs wrapped around her. Ginny wriggled and struggled and shouted at him, but Harry held on firmly.

“I’m sorry! I had to see if he was okay! We had a really, _really_ bad day, and I needed to know he was all right.” Ginny stopped moving instantly.

“Did something happen to my brother?” she asked, and Harry could hear it in her voice that she was torn between genuine concern for her brother, and anger that she would just now be hearing about it.

“No, he’s fine, but I needed to know and see him with my own eyes, and get some answers.” He felt her body relax.

“I suppose this information is on a need to know basis, and I’m not on the short list of those who need to know am I?” she puffed.

Harry buried his face in her neck and whispered, “I’m sorry. I know you hate this, but I promise I’ll tell you everything soon.” They were quiet for a moment. Harry hated that he was too cowardly to tell her what he had done, but every time he considered the possibility, he felt as if he were being suffocated.

“Are you going to let me go?” Ginny asked.

“Are you going to let me hold you tonight?” Harry asked, and he couldn’t mask the desperation in his voice, because if he had needed her last night, he most certainly needed her tonight. Ginny sighed again.

“Just let me go, Harry,” she said, and her voice was so low that Harry wondered if that statement had a double meaning. He uncoiled himself and slid back to give her enough room to sleep comfortably. He’d never sleep now, he thought, as he rolled onto his back. If having had nearly twelve hours of sleep wasn’t enough to keep him awake all night, the fact that his wife seemed to want no part of him certainly was. It was like a lifetime ago that they had been standing in the bathroom deciding they were going to try to have a baby, yet it had only been that very morning.

Harry never knew that life could take a plummet so quickly, even with all the heartache he’d had growing up. But then Ginny moved, and before he could rationalize what was happening, she was scooting up under his arm and settling her angelic head on his chest.

Harry immediately wrapped his arms around her and pulled her snug against him. Merlin, he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. If someone had told him that a gesture as simple as this could completely regenerate a person, he would have never believed it. But right that minute, Harry felt like he could run a mile while singing a song and dancing a jig!

“I love you,” he breathed, as an unrestrained tear trickled out the corner of his eye. It was a true testament of how the day’s events had affected Harry completely, for he seemed to have no control over his body at the moment.

“I know,” she whispered and snuggled closer to him. He closed his eyes, and couldn’t believe that he was starting to feel the beginnings of sleep creep over him.

 

AN: Thank you all so much for reading and for the lovely reviews so far. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter because I had a blast writing it. I have to thank my fanstastic beta, Jamie. You rock! Thanks for answering all of my grammar/punctuation questions and not thinking I have rocks for brains-lol. Please everyone, leave a review and tell me what you think. Us writers thrive off of it, terribly!

Karen


	4. Chapter 4 - Fits of Anger

 

Chapter 4 ~ Fits of Anger

 

Two women lay in a lavish bed, large enough to have three or four other occupants join them. That was not to be… _tonight_. The woman with jet black hair, pale skin and more than ample breasts lay on her back, lovingly caressing the golden brown curves of her companion. 

 

“We must get a move on with my plan,” the dark haired woman spoke softly, with a far away look in her eyes.

 

“What’s your hurry?” the other woman asked, nuzzling her cheek into a pillow-soft breast. 

 

“Hurry? It’s taken me years to come up with this plan!” she shouted, then mellowed just as quickly. “Besides, while you are as sweet as your honey-colored complexion implies, I’m growing quite bored with shagging you,” the pale woman spoke causally, causing her quite affronted companion to glare at her with beautiful amber eyes.

 

“Now, now dear, don’t get yourself in a huff. You simply do not possess certain anatomical parts that I now require,” she smoothed her hand across her lover’s cheek then lifted her chin and dropped a kiss on her lusciously full mouth. The other woman, however, pushed her away a second later.

 

“Don’t think you are the only one who is in need of something more… _male,_ ” she paused and appeared to be debating whether she should continue, but then took a breath and said, “If your plan wor—”

 

“There is no _if_ …my plan _will_ work!” The dark-haired woman screeched, and shot a dangerous look at her bed-mate. “It’s already working!”

 

“I’m sorry,” the golden one answered timidly. “ _When_ your plan works…I…I wanted to know if…if I could have something too,” she batted her large eyes.  

 

The pale woman fixed an indulgent, but inquisitive glare on her beautifully sun-kissed lover. “Well, what is it that you want?” she asked, and the other woman smiled, seductively.

 

“Not what, but… _who_.” They smirked at each other.

     

*****

 

 

Harry was having a very confusing dream. It was dark, but he was warm and… _wet_. It felt good, however, fantastic even. Then he noticed that he was aroused, very much so. That’s when he realized that he was no longer asleep and that his wife had his engorged cock deep in her mouth.

 

His eyes fluttered open and he was immediately greeted by the blurred vision of Ginny’s copper hair thrashing about as her head bobbed up and down. Harry’s breath hitched in his chest and the sound got Ginny’s attention as she flipped her hair back and looked up at him. 

 

He was speechless as his cock slipped from her mouth only to be caught in the firm grip of her hand. She licked her lips and her hand began to pump his slick shaft. Harry groaned as his face tore off a horrid expression.

 

“Is this all right? You aren’t still ill are you?” Ginny whispered. Harry opened his mouth but no sound came out so he simply shook his head. Ginny looked as though she didn’t quite believe him, but continued to firmly stroke his cock. Harry was sure his face must have looked as if he were in agonizing pain, but there was scarcely any difference between the face one made when in agony, and the face one made when in ecstasy. He was certainly in the latter. 

 

“I’m…I’m…it’s good,” he managed to grunt and no sooner than the last word left his lips, Ginny slid her hot mouth back down over his throbbing organ and continued giving it proper attention. Harry was forced to grip the sheets for lack of anything better to do. He wanted to grab Ginny’s hair, but was worried he’d yank it out. That was how insane she was making him.

 

Her mouth was very wet as it worked its way down his cock and back up to suck on his sensitive tip. Harry screwed his eyes shut and twisted his face in a collage of ghastly expressions but to this point he had yet to make a sound. 

 

There was no moaning or grunting, just a gaping mouth and a twisted expression. His hips began to thrust shallowly and Ginny pumped her mouth in the same rhythm. That’s what did it for Harry. He felt his balls constrict and was unable to shout out a warning before he exploded full-force into her mouth. 

 

He knew Ginny had no problem swallowing, she simply liked for him to give her some warning so she wouldn’t choke. Harry was usually good at this, but today he was out of his mind and simply could not speak. 

 

Even now, every muscle in his body was clenched, and he was arced forward like a bow, as his cock thumped and emptied violently. Only when it gave its last spurt did Harry finally gasp for air, seeming to have held his breath from the moment his balls constricted on him. His heart pounded and his chest rose and fell rapidly as he flopped back on the bed. He could feel Ginny crawl up his body and rest herself on top of him, but he needed a minute…or _ten_.

 

“All right, love?” Ginny asked, and Harry could hear the smirk in her voice. He opened his eyes and smiled at how pleasant she looked with her hands folded on his chest and her chin resting on top of them. Harry reached out a clumsy arm and grabbed his glasses, causing her features to come in crisp and clear.

 

“You could kill a man by waking him like that, you know,” he wheezed, and Ginny quirked an eyebrow. 

 

“Well, I suppose that will be the last time I do that then.”

 

“No need to be hasty,” Harry said, then wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to him. “I’m not complaining, in fact I wouldn’t mind at all if I died that way,” he mused with a devilish grin.

 

“Don’t say things like that,” Ginny chastised. “Besides, I was only trying to show you why you need me more than you need my brother!” She chuckled, however, Harry became deadly serious.

 

“Ginny, you mustn’t ever think that I put him before you. I would never.” Harry stated firmly. Ginny looked down sadly.

 

“I know you think that Harry, and you don’t mean to, but the fact of the matter is, you do. I know there are some things that you will share with him because you two are men, but you still go to him first about most things and Ron does the same with you…although Hermione _is_ included in more than I am,” Ginny sighed, and Harry felt like shite, for he was keeping something from her now and it wasn’t simply guy stuff. 

 

This could affect them profoundly. What if he got sacked? Although they were not hurting for money, the school did not bring in much. Or worse, what if he was sent to Azkaban? Harry swallowed thickly, he couldn’t think about that now.

 

“It’s always been the three of you and I understand that” Ginny continued, “but it’s not that way any more, and it hasn’t been just the three of you for a long time. Just remember that the next time you are debating whether or not I should know something.” She turned her head and let it rest on his chest. Harry took a deep breath and then rolled them over suddenly. Ginny gave a yelp but stilled instantly at the intense look in his eyes.

 

“Tonight when I get home, I will tell you everything that happened over these last two days, all right?” She gave a brief nod. “You’re right. I should be telling you things even if I’m not really supposed to. You are my wife and should know everything there is to know. It’s not you Ginny, you know that. It’s just not in my nature to complain and such.” Harry sighed, deeply. “If I go to Ron first, it’s only because he’s…he’s like my right arm, you know?” he looked down sadly. “It’s still inexcusable, I’m sorry.” Ginny nodded again and a silent tear leaked from her eye.

 

Harry knew that this was one of their biggest issues as a married couple. He was so closed and she was so open and together, it was bound to cause problems but he was about to change that. Ginny would know all, and he simply had to have faith that she would not look at him differently because of it. 

 

Harry leaned forward and kissed her. “I shouldn’t be too late tonight. More than likely I’ll be stuck at a desk if Weinpret thinks I’m still sick,” he kissed her again. “I can pop over to that Muggle place you like and get some take-away if you want.” Harry suggested, and Ginny smirked.

 

“I think that’s the Muggle place _you_ like but since you seem to be in the mood for it, then it’s fine with me. I’d rather not cook tonight anyway, it’s Friday. I just hope I can get the kids out on time,” she sighed.

 

“Yes, because after we talk, then I have to repay you for this morning,” he gave her a wicked smile.

 

“Oh, promises, promises, Mr. Potter!” Ginny giggled and then screamed out a laugh as Harry began to tickle her terribly.

   

*****

   

Ron rolled over in bed and attempted to snuggle up to his wife’s heavenly bum, however, he was alone. His appetite had come back with a vengeance, and he had lots to make up for. He sat up in the bed and rubbed his eyes, then took a deep breath. Yes! He smelled food!

 

Ron was out of the bed in an instant. He washed up quickly and rushed down the hall to the kitchen. Hermione looked to have cooked a feast fit for a king. There was bacon, eggs, bangers, fritters, porridge, and toast with marmalade. Ron didn’t know where to start. 

 

“Whoa! You all right, love?” he asked, as he stared wide-eyed at all the food. Hermione started slightly as she turned and smiled at her husband.

 

“Yes, I’m quite all right. Just…I guess a bit restless. I didn’t sleep well,” she finished and Ron knew she was probably up thinking most of the night. Although he felt sympathy for his lovely wife, he couldn’t help but feel hopeful that if Hermione was up all night thinking, they would soon have an answer to Harry’s problem.

 

He stepped up behind her and slipped his hands around her waist, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. 

 

“I know love, I could barely sleep last night myself.”

 

“Really? Because that symphony of snores you were serenading me with seemed to say otherwise.” Ron laughed out loud, and was ever so grateful that she had given him a reason to do so. Yesterday had made him wonder if he would ever laugh again, not to mention if he would ever be able to hold her like this. 

 

Just when Ron thought he knew all there was to know about her, Hermione would surprise him yet again. The fact that she was not floored by what he had done yesterday was shocking to him. Suddenly, he had an awful thought. What if she wasn’t so surprised because she never really saw him as such an upstanding person to begin with? The notion was ridiculous, Ron knew, but it’s amazing how little insecurities can weasel their way into one’s consciousness and take up residence at the least expected time.   

 

Ron let his hands slip from around her waist and stepped away. Hermione turned and placed a loaded plate on the table at his usual place. Ron sat numbly and stared at the delicious food, wondering where his appetite had suddenly run off to. Hermione took her place across the table. She looked up and stared at him for a moment. 

 

“What’s wrong?” 

 

“Nothing,” Ron said, a bit too quickly to be believable.

 

She pursed her lips. “You’re not eating and I know you’re hungry. You’re always hungry and besides, I can hear your stomach grumbling from here,” she smiled at her joke, and Ron picked up a rasher of bacon and bit into it. His stomach gave a loud gurgle as if to thank him, but Ron couldn’t muster the desire to take another bite. 

 

“Is it not good? Is something the matter with the bacon? You love bacon, so why aren’t you eating?” Hermione rattled off questions with a rather concerned look on her face, so Ron took another bite. It was true, he loved bacon. He’d eat it with every meal if he could. In Ron’s opinion, bacon made everything better. Bland potatoes…put some bacon in them. Need to pep up your chicken…wrap it in bacon. He’d carry it around in his pocket for a snack if Hermione would let him. 

 

But even his favorite food could not pull him out of this acute case of wallowing he found himself in. How could Hermione trust him to always make the right decision when he didn’t trust himself? 

 

“Out with it!” Hermione ordered, causing Ron to jump, slightly. “Something is wrong and it’s not just what happened yesterday because you were in a better mood when you stepped into this kitchen, and then something happened. Did I say something?” She leaned forward a bit and her face looked slightly worried. 

 

“No, love, you didn’t do anything wrong. And the food is fine, delicious,” he stared blankly at the plate, then he breathed and said, “Why were you not surprised that I…that I Obliviated that man?” Ron’s voice shook as he asked that question, and it appeared that Hermione was extremely surprised as she let go of her fork with a small clatter and gaped at him. 

 

Her mouth closed and then opened slowly. She looked as though she was deciding what to say. Ron was certain that she was trying to find a way to tell him that it was expected of him to behave irrationally, to act before he thought and to disregard the rules to protect Harry. After all, it was what he’d always done. Finally she spoke, and her response was so far from what he believed she would say that he thought he had misheard her.

 

“Sorry? What did you say?” he asked.

 

“I said,” she paused and took a breath. “I wasn’t surprised because it’s what I would have done.” There was silence as the two of them stared at each other. Hermione took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

 

“Ron, you weren’t faced with too many options, you know,” she paused. “Last night, I played it over and over in my head and the only conclusion I kept coming up with is, I would have Obliviated him as well.” Ron openly gaped at her. When he thought a few moments ago that she was constantly surprising him, he certainly didn’t know he’d be thinking it again so soon. 

 

“If the situation had been different,” she continued. “if Harry hadn’t been acting so oddly and the injury hadn’t been so life threatening, then I would have certainly said your reaction was uncalled for,” she stopped speaking abruptly and looked to be deep in thought.

 

“What did Harry say to you yesterday?” she asked suddenly, and Ron scrunched his eyebrows together.

 

“You know, something he’d said in the lift that he felt the need to apologize for.” Ron’s ears colored instantly. Yesterday he scarcely remembered what Harry was apologizing for, but today, the memory had vividly returned. Ron cleared his throat.

 

“Er…well, I told him that he had been quite rude in the way he left your office and…well, he accused me of only wanting to stare at that…that American woman.” Hermione’s cheeks flushed, slightly but then she recovered quickly.

 

“Well, she was rather attractive, so that was hardly anything to apologize for.”

 

“No, she wasn’t,” Ron lied, only in the sense that he didn’t think the woman was more attractive than Hermione. In his opinion, no one was. Hermione rolled her eyes. “And Harry actually said it in a very crude, rather loud manner…in a crowded lift.” 

 

“Oh,” Hermione nodded, “I barely noticed that he’d been rude in my office. I was a bit distracted.” Hermione said quickly, and her cheeks glowed warm again. “So he was acting strangely before you got to Kadigen’s shop?” she finished, looking intrigued. 

 

“I don’t know if it was strange. Maybe rude and irritable, but Harry has been known to be snarky at times. I didn’t think that he was acting too strangely. I just didn’t understand why he was all of a sudden so annoyed with me. I thought maybe…” Ron looked down sheepishly and a touch ashamed to be admitting this. “…maybe he was a bit jealous that I was the one doing all the talking in that meeting.” He glanced up at Hermione then finished quickly, “You know how everyone expects Harry to be the one with all the answers, especially outsiders and such…you know, people who don’t really know him. So I thought perhaps he got used to it and was angry when I rather stole the attention,” Ron’s cheeks burned bright.

 

“I understand, Ron. It makes sense you know, even though Harry is not the least bit interested in making speeches or having attention. But in hindsight, I think it feasible to think that whatever was affecting him started after you two left my office.” They sat quietly for a long moment, both thinking deeply, then Hermione gave her wand a gentle wave and Ron’s food was piping hot again. 

 

“Eat,” she ordered smoothly, and then she looked as if she was, once again, deep in thought. Ron obliged greedily, piling more bacon on his plate. His appetite had returned ten fold. 

 

When his plate was cleaned, he sat back as stuffed as a pig. Hermione stood and began clearing the table. Ron’s eyes roamed over her supple thighs as they peeked out at him from under her short dressing gown. It appeared his appetite wasn’t the only thing that had made a return. 

 

He glanced at the clock. They had a good three quarters of an hour before they needed to leave for work, so he knew he would have to be quick. Ron stood up behind her and removed the plate from Hermione’s hand. She looked up at him and seemed to recognize the devilish look in his eyes. Then she glanced over her shoulder at the clock. 

 

“Ron, we don’t have time, but I’m happy that you seem to be back to normal,” she pressed her soft bottom against him, and Ron knew she felt what she was doing to him as his sudden erection was smashed against her in a delightful way. 

 

Ron struggled with himself not to lift that skimpy dressing gown, bend her over the table and have his way with her. But he had a plan and it was to kill two birds with one stone. As quick as a flash, Ron scooped Hermione up in his arms, causing a short scream to burst from her throat.

 

“What are you doing?” she asked shrilly, as he carried her off toward the bedroom. 

 

“Let’s have a shower, shall we?” Ron took long strides and was on the other side of their bedroom in barely three steps. He kicked open the door to the adjoining bathroom and put Hermione down so he could prepare the shower. 

 

“I think I quite like this aggressive thing you’ve got going here,” Hermione giggled. 

 

“Is that so?” One corner of his mouth rose in a wicked grin, and then he fairly ripped the dressing gown from her body as she gave a delighted squeal. 

   

*****

  

Harry and Ron were silent as they rode the lift down nine floors to the Department of Aurors. This was not unusual as they often rode the lift in silence because they were not allowed to discuss classified information in a public place. However, what made this ride unusual was the fact that they were alone.

 

The silence was deafening and Harry knew it was because Ron was afraid of him. At least he _had_ been. Harry picked that up from him last night. He wasn’t cross with Ron for it, on the contrary, he understood it perfectly. Harry was afraid of himself. What he’d done was so unforgivable. 

 

He wondered if that mystery spell could possibly become the fourth Unforgivable Curse, it was so horrid. Then again, it wasn’t as absolute as the Killing Curse. After all, Kadigen was alive, thanks to Ron.

 

Harry gave a sideways glance at Ron. His mate…his _best_ mate…his _brother_. Harry owed so much to this man. Loyal to the end, Ron had followed Harry into far too many no-win situations to count and Harry loved him for it. He was good and smart and kind and the fact of the matter was, Ron had been Harry’s savior on many of those near death situations. Ron would do anything for him; Harry knew this. 

 

He swallowed thickly and this time, he turned fully to Ron. Then he flicked his wand and the lift slammed to a halt. Ron whipped his head around and gaped at Harry with wide frightened eyes.

 

“I know you’re afraid of me, Ron.” Harry spoke softly, and found himself unable to meet Ron’s eyes. 

 

“No, Harry,” Ron recovered quickly “…it’s…it’s—”

 

“It’s okay, Ron. I understand. If the situation was reversed, I’d probably be afraid of you too. Just…just promise me something…”

 

“What?” Ron asked, and Harry could already hear the hesitation in his voice.

 

“Promise me…,” the two men locked eyes, “…promise me that…that if I am ever about to hurt someone again, that you’ll stop me.” Ron opened his mouth and it looked to Harry as if he were about to agree, but then his face changed and Harry knew that Ron had caught on. It’s really impossible to know someone as well as they knew each other and not gather the true meaning behind their words.

 

“What are you saying?” Ron folded his arms over his chest and Harry knew his friend was preparing for a battle.

 

“I’m saying stop me…by any means necessary,” Harry’s stance was just as stubborn as Ron’s now, but Ron was already shaking his head.

 

“If you are asking me to do what I think you are, then you’ve gone barking mad because I will not do it!”

 

“What if I kill—”

 

“Don’t say that! You wouldn’t do that!” Ron shouted, his cheeks and neck flaring a brilliant shade of maroon. 

 

“Are you daft? I almost did! And I may really do it one day and when that day comes, you better…you better…” Harry huffed and puffed.

 

“Better what?” Ron stepped closer. “Better what! Say it Harry, _I better what_?” Ron jabbed him in the chest with a long, hard finger.  “You want me to do it and you can’t even fuckin’ say it!”

 

“YOU BETTER KILL ME!” Harry screamed, and Ron took a step backward as Harry took one forward, glaring up at his best mate. He couldn’t believe they were arguing about killing him. Theirs was a truly unique relationship and Harry could have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so nightmarishly terrible.

 

“I’m not going to do that, Harry. So don’t even waste your breath, nothing you could say would ever convince me—”

 

“What if what happened to me yesterday happens again and I _really_ kill someone… what if it’s someone one like…Herm—” Her name was barely out of his mouth before Harry found himself slammed against the wall of the lift with Ron’s forearm pressed across his chest.

 

“Don’t you say it! Don’t you ever fuckin’ say that!” Ron hissed through tight lips, and although Harry was struggling to breathe, this was exactly the reaction he wanted to pull from Ron. It was because Ron lost all control of his brain when he was angry. He acted on pure instinct. Something that made him an excellent Auror, but terrible at making emotional decisions sometimes. Harry was counting on that to get him to agree.

 

“Promise?” Harry wheezed, and Ron pressed harder on Harry’s chest. He was nowhere near the point of applying enough pressure to really hurt his friend, but Harry was certainly uncomfortable.

 

“You act as though that’s the only solution! I could do any number of things before, killing you becomes necessary,” Ron bit out, still pressing Harry firmly against the wall.

 

Harry, however, was still determined. “That is true, but there may not be another alternative, and I have to know that you will stop me no matter what that means!”

 

Ron growled deep in his throat, then removed his arm quickly and grabbed Harry by the collar with both hands. Harry took deep a breath and prepared himself for the punch he was certain Ron was about to throw. They were face to face and Ron’s eyes bored into Harry as if he wanted to burn him to the core.

 

“What am I supposed to do afterward, huh?” Ron gave Harry a quick shake, but their eyes remained locked. “When I’ve killed you…what am I supposed to do afterward? You have all the bloody answers! Tell me!” Ron shouted, and tightened his grip on Harry’s collar. Harry’s hands clamped down on Ron’s in an attempt to free himself, but it was of no use.

 

“I’ll have killed my best friend in the whole world and then what do I do? Carry my sorry arse to work the next bloody day? Go home and shag my wife? What Harry? Tell me! What do I do, other than kill myself right after, because there is no way I’d survive that!” Ron panted and released Harry’s collar with a hard shove. He stepped away, clear to the other side of the lift.

 

Harry knew that he had pushed Ron to the limit, but he needed to know that he could rely on Ron to do the right thing, even if that meant the unspeakable. Harry straightened his robes, squared his shoulders and met Ron’s eyes then said, “You don’t have to say it. I know you’ll do it. I know you’ll do the right thing no matter what.” The muscle in Ron’s jaw twitched. Harry was sure it was from the force it was taking to keep Ron from launching himself forward and pummeling Harry to a pulp. 

 

“Maybe I should just kill you now and get it over with!” Ron shot at him in a snarky sort of way and Harry almost smiled, for he knew that however angry Ron was with him, he had just consented to do it. But before Harry could confirm this, a loud crack sounded between them as a very slim man in bright orange robes appeared before them. 

 

He looked between the two red-faced men a few times then said, “Maintenance. What seems to be the problem?” When Harry and Ron simply stared at him, he sighed and rolled his eyes. “Lift’s stuck? Or did you stop it on purpose?” he asked as he noticed the Auror badges, and then seemed to notice who the two men were _and_ that he had interrupted something. His annoyed expression disappeared immediately.

 

“Er…sorry, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley.”

 

“I stopped it on purpose,” Harry said flatly.

 

“How did you get in here? You can’t Apparate in this building,” Ron asked glaringly, then stepped toward the man causing him to pale instantly.

 

“Uh…repair crews have clearance you see, I may need to get in a sticky situation, like this, you know. Stopped lift and all,” he nodded rapidly. Harry flicked his wand and the lift gave a lurch, then continued its journey down. 

 

Harry was just about to tell the Maintenance worker that he could go, but the doors opened and they were at their destination. The two men stepped off the lift in silence. Harry knew Ron was still furious but he didn’t care, he had his answer and he felt a little better knowing that before he could hurt someone else, Ron would stop him. 

   

*****

  

Harry was correct in his earlier assessment. Chief Weinpret had him strapped to a desk for his entire shift. It was killing him too because he wanted desperately to get more information on Alphard Black’s death and the red Dark Mark. While he’d had a significant distraction since that day, he had not forgotten about it. 

 

At least every twenty seconds, Harry wondered what Ron was doing. Weinpret thought it prudent to assign Ron as a third man on the team of Douglas and Tonks. Although Harry was not envious of Ron having to spend an entire shift with Douglas, they had been stationed to keep surveillance on Kadigen and Harry was very interested in that. 

 

Ron had gone a brilliant shade of green when the Chief gave out assignments at the morning debriefing, but Harry was at least a little pleased with the assignment. Ron was sure to tell Harry if Kadigen was not all right and not to mention, they may get some much needed information from him this time.

 

At the end of his shift, Harry was quite tired from being extremely bored all day. Ron hadn’t returned to the office once and was currently still in the field. Perhaps they had found a good lead. Nevertheless, Harry reluctantly signed out, feeling anxiety build within him at the thought of his up and coming talk with Ginny. All the same, the moment he was in the safe zone, he Apparated to the edge of the Muggle town that held his favorite Italian restaurant.

 

Now that his arms were loaded with wonderful smelling food, Harry Apparated to Potter’s Cove with mixed feelings about his impending talk with Ginny. She was a rational woman and had more than her share of common sense so Harry reasoned that she would understand. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself over and over again. He pushed open the door to see Ginny saying goodbye to the last of the students. Ethan ran to him, and attached himself to Harry’s leg. 

 

“Hey Ethan,” Harry said, and scooped the little boy into his arms after he sat down the food. 

 

“Look, Uncle Harry!” Ethan shouted and thrust his little hand into Harry’s face. It had a rather large bandage wrapped around it. 

 

“What happened?” Harry asked.

 

“He got nipped by a Crup,” Caroline said casually, as she stepped up beside him. Harry gave her a shocked look, then his forehead creased as he tried to bring back Care of Magical Creatures class. Crups? If he wasn’t mistaken, Crups were just like dogs, Jack Russell Terriers to be exact, except they have a forked tail. Harry turned to Ginny.

 

“We have a Crup?” he asked, wondering for an insane moment if his wife no longer wanted to have a baby and decided they’d get this creature instead. 

 

“No, Marcus has one. He brought it in to show the children,” Ginny replied, and appeared a bit annoyed. Marcus was the Care of Magical Creatures professor. Though he was nowhere near Hagrid in his view of what constitutes a dangerous creature, he was a bit overzealous when it came to animals. All the same, he was supposed to clear any creature he brought into the school with Ginny. After all, these children were ages ten and under. Harry thought Crups were rather friendly, to wizards anyway, they were quite aggressive toward Muggles.

 

“Did it attack you?” Harry asked Ethan, and was on the verge of finding Marcus and thumping the man about the head for being so careless.

 

“Oh yes!” said Ethan with wide excited eyes. “But you should never try to ride a Crup and then pull on its tongue, they don’t like that,” he shook his little head. Harry laughed out loud.

 

“No Ethan, you probably should not do that,” he laughed more, then turned to Ginny again.

 

“Why didn’t you heal this?” he knew she could have healed something this minor with hardly any effort.

 

“He wouldn’t let me, said he wanted to show his Uncle Harry how he’d battled a Dragon just like you,” Ginny quirked an eyebrow, and Caroline gave a low chuckle. 

 

“Someone’s been telling you fairystories again, I see,” Harry said, and Ethan nodded excitedly. 

 

“Come on, little one. We have to get going,” Caroline pulled Ethan out of Harry’s arms and the little boy waved vigorously as they stepped into the fireplace, and vanished in a green blaze. Ginny went about setting the table as Harry stepped up behind her and kissed her neck. 

 

“You really shouldn’t feed him all those ridiculous stories about me slaying dragons and battling giant snakes,” Harry said, and nipped at her shoulder. Ginny smiled.

 

“Well it’s all true, and he loves to hear them. He idolizes you, you know.”

 

“It’s not true,” Harry chuckled. “I didn’t slay that dragon, so much as outwit it, and as far as the snake is concerned… _you_ were out cold, so you didn’t see that I spent most of the time dodging that as well.” Ginny chuckled, and turned in his arms.

 

“Doesn’t matter what you say Harry Potter, you are always going to be my hero!” she kissed him soundly and Harry felt his heart clench in his chest. How he hoped Ginny would still feel that way when he was finished telling her what he had done. 

 

“You owe me, Mr. Potter and I think it’s time to collect,” Ginny purred, and kissed him again, effectively pulling Harry out of his thoughts.

 

“Is that so?” he asked between kisses, but his hands were already pulling up her skirt. 

 

“That is definitely so,” Ginny moaned as Harry’s hands came to rest on her firm bottom and he slipped them inside her knickers, giving her arse a gentle squeeze. 

 

“The supper will get cold,” he whispered, as his mouth descended on her throat and he pressed his eager erection against her stomach. Ginny gave her wand a casual wave and a shimmering force field covered the food, preserving its heat. 

 

Harry backed her up against the counter, then grabbed her waist and lifted her until she was comfortably sitting on top. His hands slipped under her skirt again and he caressed her thighs. Ginny leaned back with a coy grin playing at her mouth. 

 

“Quit stalling, Potter and pay up!” 

 

“Don’t boss me!” Harry said with a devilish grin, then grabbed the hem of her skirt and threw it over his head. The navy blue material made it quite dark under there, but Harry didn’t mind, he’d know his way to his wife’s sweet center even if he was suddenly struck blind. When his fingers hooked the front of her knickers and pulled them to the side, Ginny gave an excited squeal, and opened her legs wide for him. His mouth found her heat with haste.

 

“ _Mmmm_ ,” Ginny moaned loudly, and Harry sucked earnestly at her rather hairless folds. He loved that she kept herself with a very thin strip down there. It was always soft and neat and every time he saw it, he wanted to kiss it. His tongue swirled deftly around her wet nub and Ginny squeezed her legs together, locking his head in place. 

 

Harry knew she wanted him to stay right where he was, but he could hardly breathe. The heavy fabric of her skirt combined with her thighs clamped on his head made it a certainty that he would soon suffocate. He began sucking with vigor, then he shoved her knickers further to the side and slid two fingers deep inside of her. 

 

“Ooohhh Harry!” Ginny wailed as she began to shiver. “Ohh God!...Oh Harry…oh!” she was panting deeply, and the sound was driving Harry mad. His cock was so hard he thought it would burst through his trousers at any moment. He quickly undid his zipper, and removed his soaked fingers from deep within Ginny, only to grip his cock with them, coating the shaft with her slick juices. 

 

Harry’s mouth continued to work feverishly on his wife as his hand vigorously pumped his aching cock. Not a minute later, Ginny was gripping a handful of her skirt, in addition to a healthy chunk of Harry’s hair as she screamed out a massive orgasm. Less than five strokes later, Harry’s cock exploded in his hand as he gave a great, muffled shout. Ginny’s legs relaxed around Harry’s head and he emerged from under her skirt extremely wet about the face, especially the mouth and chin. His hair was plastered to his forehead, damp with sweat. 

 

“Whew!” he breathed. “It’s hot under there!” Ginny chuckled, but then quickly stopped as Harry grabbed a handful of her skirt, and wiped his face with it. 

 

“What are you doing?” she shouted, and snatched her skirt out of his grip. 

 

“Sorry,” Harry panted with a laugh. “I just figured, since you almost killed me with that thing, the least you could do is let me clean myself off with it,” he laughed again.

 

“Yeah well, you thought wrong!” Ginny snapped, but the laughter was present in her voice. “It was your idea to go up under there in the first place.” She held out her arms and Harry helped her down off the counter, giving her a wet kiss as he did so. She turned and they both spotted the mess Harry made on the lower cupboard door. 

 

Ginny snorted. “They’d close us down if they knew all the sordid things you did when this school was closed.”

 

“The things _I_ did?” Harry asked, incredulously. “So I was alone, was I?”

 

“ _I_ didn’t come all over the cupboard!” Ginny laughed as she grabbed her wand and cast a cleaning spell so powerful that the smell of disinfectant was pungent in the air. 

 

Harry swatted her bottom. “No, just all over my face! I’ll remember that the next time you lift your skirt for me. I’ll simply say, none for me, thanks.”

 

“Ha!” Ginny laughed loudly, and shoved him into a kitchen chair. “The next time I lift my skirt for you, Harry Potter, you’ll bury yourself under it again and risk suffocation just as you did today, and you know it!” 

 

Harry began to situate the food with a smirk on his face. “Too right you are,” he chuckled, and then pulled out a container of soup. “I only got one bowl because I didn’t think you liked this last time,” he said to Ginny.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Italian Wedding soup,” Harry smiled. 

 

“No, it really wasn’t my favorite,” she said, and Harry smiled wider because he loved the soup and that meant it was all his. He put the container up to his mouth and took a long slurp, then grimaced.

 

“Just because I don’t want any, doesn’t mean you have to start eating like Ron. Use a spoon, you animal.” Ginny chastised with a smile. Harry chuckled and spooned out a hearty scoop with a meatball, then he made another face after he’d swallowed.

 

“It’s a touch bitter. Must have a new chef, or perhaps they burnt it a bit,” he took another spoonful.

 

“You want to throw it out? I have plenty of veal, we can share.” 

 

“Are you kidding? It may be a bit bitter, but it’s still delicious. Besides, I’ve been dreaming about this soup all day,” he smiled wide, and Ginny chuckled as they began to eat. 

 

Supper grew quiet and the more they ate, the more silent it got. As Harry finished his soup, he could feel the tension in the air. He knew Ginny was waiting patiently for him to keep his promise and tell her everything, but the fact that she didn’t seem to want to even have small talk with him anymore was slightly annoying. 

 

_She’s always putting pressure on me_ , Harry thought. _How can I measure up to the high standards she’s set? Do I always have to slay dragons and battle a Basilisk?_ Harry sighed heavily, and Ginny looked up from her nearly empty plate. 

 

“Are you all right?” she asked, mildly.

 

“Fine,” Harry snapped, and Ginny’s eyebrows rose slightly.

 

“Do you want to talk now?” she asked. _There it is!_ Harry thought bitterly. _She was probably waiting for this all damn day!_ He rolled his eyes and gave a great sigh. Ginny looked at him with a curious expression on her face. Then she stood and began to clear the table. 

 

“Are you done?” she asked before she removed his soup container.

 

“It’s empty isn’t it?” Harry shot, and Ginny gaped at him for a split second before she picked up the container and tossed it in the rubbish bin. She tossed the remainder of the supper in the rubbish as well.

 

“What the hell did you do that for? That’s a waste of good food and good money, that is!” Harry shouted. Ginny looked at him incredulously.

 

“There was hardly a bite left! But if you’d like to finish it, I can fish it out for you!” The couple glared at each other for a brief moment. Harry was so incredibly annoyed with her. God, she could infuriate him sometimes! Ginny stepped over to the sink and began to wash the utensils. She could do it by magic, but most times she preferred to do it this way. Harry sat nearly trembling, as the rage built steadily within him. 

 

“You know,” Ginny began, sourly, “if you don’t want to talk anymore just say so. There’s no need to behave like an arse and start an argument!” she bit out. Harry was on his feet and standing behind her in the blink of an eye. Ginny turned around with just as much speed. Though her eyes were wide with surprise, her cheeks were flushed with anger, and she held a defiant look about her face. Harry’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he glared at his insufferable wife. 

 

“What the hell did you call me?” he hissed dangerously, but Ginny had a temper of her own, and was scarcely one to back down.

 

“I called you an arse! That’s what you’re act—” Ginny was unable to finish her statement for Harry had grabbed her throat in a deathly tight grip. Ginny let out a startled cry that was cut short as her air supply was being slowly depleted. 

 

Her eyes grew wide and began to water immediately as Harry squeezed and squeezed. His lips were tight in a thin line, and his face grew blood red as he put all his effort into stopping her breathing. Ginny groped and clawed at his hands however, due to hers being wet and soapy, she was unable to get a secure grip. It would have been useless anyway. Harry was much stronger and was single-minded in his determination to choke the life out of her. 

 

As her lips began to turn a sick shade of blue, Ginny gave a last attempt to save her life as she groped beside her for something to help her. What she came up with was a fork, and without hesitation, she drove it into Harry’s forearm. 

 

He gave a painful squeal, released her, and stumbled back into the table. Ginny sucked in a tremendous gulp of air and slumped to the floor gasping for her very life. Harry pried the fork out of his forearm, then his body gave a seizure-like shutter and he keeled forward and vomited. 

 

He coughed and sputtered and gagged until he was quite empty. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. With watery dazed eyes, Harry looked up and saw Ginny slumped on the floor gasping violently. 

 

“Ginny,” he rasped, and stepped toward her, reaching out for her. She recoiled instantly and scampered further into the corner. The look in her eyes was like a knife straight into Harry’s heart, for it was pure unbridled terror. 

 

“Oh God,” Harry choked, and stepped back quickly, falling over a kitchen chair in his attempt to escape. 

 

“ _Harry_!” Ginny wheezed, and the sound almost made him scream. She barely had a voice, and it was all his doing. Harry scrambled to his feet and stumbled toward the front door. He glanced behind him and saw Ginny trying to get to her feet on very unstable legs. 

 

“ _Harry_ ,” she moaned again, and it was barely audible to him, this time because of all the noise going on in his head. However, he had to ignore it and get out of there! 

 

“Stay away from me, Ginny!” he barked out weakly, as he clumsily burst through the front door and promptly fell down the four front steps. However, Harry was hardly going to let that slow him down. He had to make it to the gate so he could get far away! 

 

Harry broke into a run as he found a sudden burst of energy and coordination. He could hear Ginny ineffectively trying to chase after him, and increased his speed. She had no chance of catching him now. The last thing he heard before he Apparated was Ginny’s hoarse cries for him to stop.

 

Harry materialized at the first place that must have popped into his head, and that was Diagon Alley. He was rather surprised that he hadn’t splinched himself, but he could not be concerned with that now. Diagon Alley was far too busy, and he was too easily recognized there. 

 

An instant later he was standing in Doncaster Village, a small town about ten miles south of Hogsmeade. Harry walked into the first place he saw, a slightly dodgy looking spot called The Ramshead Inn. 

 

There was a small amount of people seated in the cozy restaurant and Harry was grateful that no one looked up from their meal when he entered. He quickly made his way to the counter and rang the bell. 

 

A pleasant looking black man appeared. He had a large mustache and kind brown eyes. Harry tried to return the man’s smile, but he had nothing to smile about and was unable to fake it. 

 

“I need a room,” Harry stated mildly. The man let his eyes rake over Harry carefully, and then nodded. Harry knew he probably looked a sight. He was sweaty from running and if the last time he was sick like this was any indication, he was probably pale and green.

 

“How long will you be with us Mr….” The man asked. 

 

Harry cast around frantically in his mind for a name to give the man then said, “Er…Evans, James Evans and I’m…I’ll be here a week,” He rasped, without meeting the inn keeper’s eyes, then swallowed thickly, fighting the urge he had to retch again.

 

“All right,” he placed a key on the counter, which Harry snatched up immediately. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, then pushed them across the counter.

 

“Will that do?” he asked, and the man looked at him oddly before pushing more than half the coins back toward Harry. 

 

“That’s a bit too much,” he smiled again. “You can get your final bill when you check-out. My name is Marvin, if you need anything just find me. Your room is up the stairs and to the right.” Harry mumbled a thank you, and was gone before Marvin could say anything more. 

 

Once inside the room, which consisted of a small bed, a writing desk with chair, and a cramped bath, Harry fell gracelessly onto the squeaky bed. The thoughts in his head were deafening, and Harry as unable to make sense of them, nor was he able to quiet them. So he curled in on himself and did something he hadn’t done in years…cried himself to sleep. 

 

 

 

 

AN: I truly hope no one was too upset behind Harry's ooc behavior. There is a reason for it as I'm sure most of you have figured out. All the same, please let me know what you think. I struggled with this chapter, and it was the hardest one to write thus far, but it was the most needed one to take the story to it's conclusion. Anyway, I thank you all for the fanstastic reviews so far. I hope this chapter hasn't chased anyone away. Thank you, also, to my fanstasic beta, Jamie. Your help has made a great difference in my work, and I really appreciate all that you've done.  

 

Thanks again,  

Karen (please, read and review!)


	5. Chapter 5 - Questions

BONDED

 

Chapter 5 ~ Questions 

  

Ron tore though the house. _Where the hell is all the parchment?_ He screamed in his head. This was not his house, so he had no idea where they kept such things, but this was a bloody school; there should be parchment everywhere! 

 

Finally! He found it, tore off a ragged piece, and scribbled down four words. With shaking hands, Ron struggled to tie the note to Hedwig’s leg. He barked out instructions, then gave the owl a less than gentle shove, and she took off with an indignant hoot. 

 

Ron stood for a moment trembling from head to toe. He wasn’t sure whether it was anger or fear that had his body behaving in such a manner, but he really had no time to ponder it. Even after he had calmed Ginny down enough to make her words understandable, he was only able to pull snatches of information from her. 

 

He knew that fear and shame were the only reasons it took her so long to call him. It had been nearly nine in the morning when she sent him an urgent note, telling him to come over right away. Hermione was already out doing shopping when the note arrived. Whatever Ron had expected when he had stepped out of the fireplace at Potter’s Cove, this was not it. Ron had to nearly force Ginny to take a calming potion, but she now lay quietly on the sofa in the sitting room, 

 

Ron stepped into the kitchen, out of earshot of Ginny, grabbed the medallion around his neck, and then whispered, “Locus Secuutus.” Instantly, a green glowing floor plan appeared before him. A single blue dot rested in a small room, and in the corner of the hologram it read, _The Ramshead Inn, Room eight._

 

Ron took off in a blaze, and was at the front gate in no time. With a loud crack, he Disapparated, reappearing in the small village of Doncaster. Taking quick steps, Ron came upon his destination almost immediately. His heart pounded as he pushed open the door. 

 

An older woman behind the counter smiled at him, but Ron barely noticed. He was on a mission and would not be side tracked. He headed toward the back steps, taking them two at a time. Before he got to the top, however, his communicator began to hum. 

 

“Ron!” The voice of his wife rang out, shrilly. “Where are you?” she cried.

 

“Getting Harry,” Ron panted, as he ran the remainder of the steps.

 

“Ron!” This time it was his sister’s frantic voice coming through the communicator. “You haven’t hurt him have you?” she shouted, with a sob.

 

“Not yet,” Ron bit out sourly. He grabbed the medallion, and then mumbled, “Desino-hora,” which effectively ended all communications for at least another hour. He could feel the medallion glowing warmly against his skin, and he knew that meant Hermione was still trying to reach him. 

 

He reached Room Eight and raised his hand preparing to knock, but he knew that Harry would never open the door, so he reared back and kicked the door off its hinges. He could have Apparated, but kicking in the door gave him some sense of release. At the sound of the door crashing open, Harry sprang out of the bed, and had his wand in hand in a flash. He seemed to relax a bit when he saw that it was Ron. The expression on Ron’s face, however, gave Harry just cause to look terrified once again. 

 

Nevertheless, Harry tossed his wand aside, and seemed to prepare himself as Ron barreled toward him like an angry red tornado, driving his fist into Harry’s face. There was a sickening crunch. The unmistakable sound of Harry’s nose breaking, but Ron didn’t let that stop him. Another blow to Harry’s face sent his glasses sailing across the floor.

 

“YOU BASTARD!” Ron roared, with another blow that seemed to effectively crack Harry’s jaw. “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Ron punched Harry in the stomach, and ribs, and then square in the chest. 

 

Harry heaved and gasped for air, but Ron was far from finished. He was insane with fury toward this man that he trusted, this man that he called a brother! Ron drove forward sending Harry careening into the wall, then his hands were wrapped around Harry’s throat in a vice-like grip. He lifted him off the floor a good four or five inches until they were eye to eye.

 

“You like this?” Ron spat viciously. “You like how this feels?” he squeezed tighter as Harry’s eyes began to water and bulge out of his head. Harry groped at Ron’s hands, and then clamped down on them tightly. Ron was blind with rage, and pressed harder on his former best mate’s throat. Harry had wanted Ron to kill him, and now Ron felt more than willing to oblige.

 

“Please,” Harry managed to wheeze, and it was like a jolt through Ron’s nervous system, as he realized what was happening. The look in Harry’s eyes was full of pleading, not fear, or anger, or even self-preservation. Suddenly, it became quite apparent that Harry was not trying to pry Ron’s hands off of his throat, but was pushing them harder into his own neck. Ron released him immediately, and Harry gave a great gasp, but still manage to rasp out, “NO!” he arced forward, and latched onto the front of Ron’s cloak. 

 

“ _You promised_ ,” Harry sobbed, and choked. 

 

Ron wanted to kill himself. Something was terribly wrong with Harry, and his first instinct was to come in and beat him to a pulp. Even as angry as Ron was, he never _really_ wanted to kill Harry. 

 

“Kill me, Ron,” Harry whispered, as tears filled his eyes. 

 

“Don’t say that!” Ron shouted, but seemed to be losing his voice as well.

 

Harry fell to his knees, bending Ron forward because he was still clutching the front of Ron’s cloak. His blood soaked face broke into a horrid expression, and he screamed out the most heart wrenching wail Ron had ever heard. Harry shook violently as sobs wracked his body, but he was still clinging to Ron as if he was his lifeline.

 

Ron dropped to his knees as well, the weight of Harry making it impossible to do anything else. Then Ron did something he could honestly say he had never in his life done before. He embraced Harry with a fierce hug, and let his friend cry. Before long, Ron was crying too.

  

*****

  

At a quarter to ten in the morning, Hermione was making good time she thought, with only two more stops to make before heading home. She had already stopped in the book shop, and was almost giddy at the purchases she’d made. It was a certainty that she would find what she was looking for in one of the nine books she had found. Some of the books were rather dark, and got her strange looks from the shopkeeper but she didn’t care, they were bound to give her some valuable information.  

 

Hermione almost had a theory worked out, but she needed more information. The books, as well as some information from Harry, would help her with many of the questions she had. She planned to go by and thoroughly question Harry on his feelings leading up to his attack on the shopkeeper. Hermione only hoped that Harry had been upfront with Ginny. This was not something that a husband should hide from a wife. 

 

As she made her way to the market to purchase more bacon, something large and feathery clipped her on the head. Hermione whirled around and saw Hedwig soaring toward her again. Her heart immediately lurched, because she knew something was wrong. She sat her bags down, and stuck out her arm. Hedwig landed gracefully, but seemed to be a bit on edge, because she instantly stuck her leg in a hasty manner. 

 

Hermione untied the note, and Hedwig swiftly flew off again. With trembling fingers, she read the note that held only four words in her husband’s messy scrawl: _Get to Ginny, now!_ Hermione gasped, gathered her bags, and Disapparated that instant. She appeared a second later at the iron gates of Potter’s Cove, and ran as fast as she could to the front door. She dropped her bags as soon as she stepped over the threshold, and then quickly made her way further into the house. 

 

“Ginny?” Hermione called, and a moment later she heard a small whimper come from the sitting room. She moved quickly, and saw Ginny’s delicate form lying on the sofa. 

 

“Ginny,” Hermione called, again as she stepped closer. She knelt by the sofa and gently touched Ginny on the back. The younger woman rolled over slightly, and looked up at Hermione with puffy red-rimmed eyes. 

 

“What’s wrong, Gin? What happened?” Hermione whispered. Ginny rolled over completely and sat up a slightly. Hermione nearly screamed as Ginny’s neck came into view. It was positively purple and black with bruises that looked like…fingerprints? Hermione asked herself. 

 

“What happened?” she screeched. 

 

“ _Harry_ ,” Ginny whispered, and it wasn’t on purpose, she simply had no voice. 

 

“Where is Harry?” Hermione looked around frantically, thinking that he and Ron were probably off about to commit murder against the person who had done this to Ginny. 

 

“Gone,” Ginny wheezed, and then fresh tears began to bubble out of her eyes rapidly. “He…he did this to me, Hermione,” her eyes cast downward as she spoke. Hermione gasped so deeply, she thought her lungs might explode. Her hand was over her mouth, and she looked at Ginny with saucer-like eyes. 

 

“Oh, God! Oh, God!” Hermione chanted. “Oh, no!” Tears fell from her eyes as well, and then she flung herself forward and hugged Ginny. They embraced only for a moment before Hermione had a terrifying thought, and pulled away. She yanked up the sleeve on her cloak, and grabbed the tiny heart-shaped charm dangling from the silver bracelet. Ginny wore the exact same one, and seemed to realize what Hermione was doing instantly. She looked almost angry with herself for not having thought of it hours ago. 

 

“Conloquium,” Hermione said, and there was a slight humming coming from the charm as she brought her wrist up to her mouth to speak. When she had created the communicators for the Auror department, Ron and Harry were insistent that she and Ginny have them as well, even though the Ministry only allowed their use among Aurors. Therefore, she and Ginny wore theirs in secret. Anyone looking at it would simply think it was a trinket given to them by their husbands. 

 

“Ron!” Hermione shouted shrilly through the communicator. “Where are you?” 

 

“Getting Harry,” was his reply. Ginny sat up completely, and grabbed Hermione’s hand so forcefully that Hermione thought it was going to snap off.

 

“Ron!” Ginny shouted. “You haven’t hurt him have you?” she sobbed.

 

“Not yet!” Ron’s voice rang out from the tiny heart, and then it went dead. There was no hum or anything. Both women looked at each other frantically. 

 

“Get him back!” Ginny screamed, hoarsely.

 

“Conloquium!” Hermione shouted, but nothing happened. “Conloquium!” she tried again, to no avail. Hermione looked up at Ginny, hopelessly.

 

“Do something, Hermione! He’ll kill him! You know he will!” Ginny was frantic now, as she stood, and began to pace. She was right too, Hermione thought. Ron would kill Harry or close to it. She loved her husband, but his temper was a scary uncontrollable beast, especially when someone messed with the women in his life, and it didn’t matter who that _someone_ was. Hermione stood, and with fumbling fingers, removed her charm bracelet. Ginny stilled instantly.

 

“What are you going to do?” she rasped, and stepped up to Hermione. 

 

“I’m…I’m…I think I can find them,” she pulled Ginny into the kitchen and made her sit, then she placed her bracelet on the table. 

 

“Give me yours,” Hermione ordered, and Ginny immediately complied. Now that the two bracelets were side by side, Hermione looked hesitant. 

 

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Ginny wheezed.

 

“Well, our communicators are the very first version, and they don’t have all the features that Ron’s and Harry’s have. I…I don’t know if I can make them give me the location.” Hermione looked quite distraught as she said that. “Ron has been after me for months to update them but…but I’ve just put it off. I’m so sorry!” A tear fell from her eye as Ginny grabbed her hand.

 

“Hermione, don’t worry about it, just do what you can, okay.” Hermione nodded, and wiped her face. Nearly an hour later, she finally managed to get the communicators to give her coordinates, only. Quickly, she conjured a map, and plotted the location. 

 

“Doncaster,” Hermione sighed, and flopped in the kitchen chair. “I don’t know where but it has to be an inn or something of the sort.”

 

“Let’s go,” Ginny was on her feet instantly, and Hermione wearily joined her. Neither woman wanted to think of the state they would find their husbands in when they got to Doncaster Village, but they had to go. 

 

“Wait,” Ginny rasped. “Can you heal my neck?” she looked at Hermione with pleading eyes, and Hermione knew it was more than avoiding questioning looks from strangers, Ginny did not want Harry to see what he had done to her. 

 

“I don’t know how to fix your voice,” Hermione said softly, and Ginny shook her head.

 

“Just…just remove the bruises, please.” Hermione nodded, and waved her wand, effectively removing all the purple and black marks on Ginny’s neck. The pain was still there though, Hermione could tell. 

 

“Thank you,” Ginny whispered, and smiled weakly.

 

“Are you sure you want to go, Gin? I can go and then come straight back and tell you what happened. I promise I’ll come straight back,” Hermione wrung her hands nervously. She didn’t know how Harry would be when they found him. If he was still out of his mind, and he hurt Ginny again, Hermione would never forgive herself.

 

“I’m going, Hermione! The only way you will keep me here is to stun me, so unless you are prepared to pull your wand on me, I suggest we get going!” Ginny said sternly, although it was barely above a whisper. Hermione gave a brief nod, and the two women walked out the door.

 

“You must tell me everything that happened. Every little detail, no matter how unimportant it may seem to you,” Hermione said, as they quickly trotted across the front lawn. 

 

Ginny nodded, grimly. “I think you have some things to tell me as well.”

  

*****

  

The room was so silent that for an insane moment, Ron thought he had gone deaf. Not until he heard a rodent of some sort, scurry across the floor, did he realize that he could still hear. For over an hour, he and Harry sat on the floor, side by side, resting against the bed frame. The door that Ron had kicked off its hinges had been fixed, although Ron had no real memory of doing it. 

 

He glanced over at Harry and his heart hitched in his chest. Harry’s face and neck were smeared with a dried shield of blood. His right eye was swollen shut, and it was certain that his nose was broken, because now, Ron could clearly hear a sickly whistle whenever Harry inhaled. Ron looked down at his swollen knuckles and made a remorseful swallow. His throat was as dry as if he had drunk a glass full of sand. 

 

“Let…” Ron began, but his voiced cracked terribly. He cleared his throat, and tried again. “Let me heal you,” he whispered. Harry’s eyes opened slowly, and he gave an almost undetectable shake of his head. “Please Harry, let me do this. I…I didn’t mean to…to hurt you like that. I just lost it, you know. I was angry. I’m sorry,” Ron spoke softly but, adamantly. 

 

Harry rolled his head to the side, and looked at Ron. What his eyes said was the scariest thing Ron had ever seen. He was looking at a man who had given up completely. To Ron, Harry looked as though he welcomed death, was waiting for it with open arms, in fact. Then a silent tear slipped from Harry’s eye, and in a ghost of a voice he said, “I hurt her, Ron,” he choked on a sob. “And…and now, I don’t de-deserve to live.”

 

“Don’t say that!” Ron squeaked out a shout that sounded as though he were going through puberty again. He reached behind him, and grabbed Harry’s discarded wand from the bed. 

 

“I’ll break it if you keep talking crazy!” Ron said, thinking that it would prevent Harry from doing something stupid, but just as quickly he realized that if Harry really wanted to kill himself, there were plenty of ways to do it without a wand. 

 

Harry didn’t bother to acknowledge the crazy statement. He now seemed content to simply close his eyes, and let the tears flow unchecked. This was really scaring Ron. He needed to get Harry back to normal, or at least back to the way Harry reacted when he was scared, and depressed and wracked with guilt. He needed to distract him. 

 

“Tell me what happened,” Ron asked softly, and for a moment he thought Harry hadn’t heard him, but then Harry drew in a deep breath, and his nose whistled loudly. 

 

“I…”A soft knock at the door interrupted him, and the two men were on their feet instantly. Harry snatched his wand from Ron’s grip, and took aim at the door. 

 

“Did you tell anyone where you were going?” Harry asked.

 

“No, I didn’t tell…” Ron huffed, as he realized instantly who was on the other side of the door.  “I’m going to kill her!” he grumbled, and Harry seemed to know that only Hermione would cause that reaction from Ron, so he lowered his wand. 

 

Ron stomped over to the door fully prepared to see his wife’s worried face, but what he was not prepared for, was his sister to be standing behind her. As soon as Ron opened the door, Ginny took off like an arrow, headed straight for Harry. Fortunately, Ron was not made Keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch team just because he was Harry’s best mate. His reflexes kicked in, and he reached out a long arm, and caught Ginny around the waist before she could pass him. 

 

“Harry!” Ginny screamed hoarsely, as her arms and legs flailed against her brother. Harry immediately threw down his wand, and scampered into the corner like a frightened animal. Hermione stepped into the room, and closed the door, then cast a silencing spell.

 

“Are you insane? Why the hell did you bring her here?” Ron shouted at his wife.

 

“She needs to see him, Ron.” 

 

“No she doesn’t! She needs…” he was interrupted, as Ginny’s wild thrashing caused her to slap him hard about the mouth. He wasn’t too sure if that was an accident.

 

“LET ME GO!” she screamed as loudly as her damaged throat would allow. 

 

“NO!” Ron’s voice bellowed through the room, now that was it back to its full capacity. “You should not have brought her here!” he was back shouting at Hermione again. “This was not a smart thing to do, damn it!”

 

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “I am not stupid Ronald! I know this is not the ideal situation, but Harry needs to see her just as much as she needs to see him. The longer they are away from each other, the greater the fear will be when they reconnect!”

 

“Look at him! Does he look like he _needs_ to see her?” Ron pointed a strong finger at Harry, who now, looked as though he was trying to become one with the wall. His arms were splayed out beside him, and his hands were gripping the wall so hard that he’d made claw marks in the ratty old wallpaper. He really did looked like a cornered animal, and Ron knew all too well that cornered animals only stayed that way for so long before they attacked. 

 

“Get her out of here!’ Ron barked, and shoved his sister’s petite body into his wife’s, and pushed them both toward the door. “I know you’re not stupid Hermione, but you have to admit that there is a difference between having book-smarts and having common-sense, and this right here, lacks common-sense, completely!” Hermione shoved back forcefully, but was no match for her husband’s strength. The fire in her eyes told Ron that she was thoroughly angry with him. He could not be bothered with her temper now, this was not a safe place for them, and he needed them out this very minute. 

 

Unfortunately, Ginny must have taken advantage of the fact that Ron was truly distracted by his argument with Hermione, because she slipped under his arm and flew to Harry as if he was a magnet pulling her to him. She wrapped herself around him and held on tightly. Harry gave a pained moan and turned his face away from her as much as he could.

 

“Ginny!” Ron shouted, and marched over to the couple in the corner, then attempted to pry his sister away from her husband. Harry was panting and shaking now. He looked as though he was about to explode. 

 

“Ginny, get off of him!” Ron tugged forcefully at her jumper. 

 

“No! Let me talk to him! Leave us alone for a minute!” she said, and it was barely audible with her voice being just above a whisper, and the fact that she had her face buried in Harry’s chest. 

 

“Are you mad? I’m not leaving you alone with him!” Ron knew that sounded awful, but it was the truth. They’d have to kill him to get him to leave her alone with Harry. He yanked hard on Ginny’s jumper, stretching it out of shape terribly, only succeeding in pulling them both away from the wall for a split second. Harry thudded back against it with an even more pained expression about his face.

 

“Stop, Ron! Just stop!” Hermione was at his shoulder now. “I’ll get her,” she said calmly, and Ron hesitated for a moment before he stepped back and let his wife try, where clearly he had failed. Before Hermione could attempt anything, Ginny grabbed one of Harry’s arms, which was still plastered to the wall, and forced it around her waist. Until that point, Harry had made no effort to touch her. In fact he appeared as though it was extremely painful for him to have her pressed against him as she was. 

 

The action seemed to force a dam to break inside of Harry, and he nearly collapsed as he broke down and grabbed onto Ginny with both arms. It was clear that it startled her, but only for a second, then she held onto him even tighter. Harry wailed loudly as his knees buckled, and he fell to the floor, bringing Ginny with him. 

 

“I’m so sorry,” he choked through his sobs.

 

“Shh,” she cried, and stroked his back, rocking him gently. Ron and Hermione stood in a sad silence and watched the couple as they had a hard cry together. Hermione wiped at the constant stream of tears that flowed from her eyes. Ron swallowed the lump in his throat, wishing that he could leave them to share this extremely intimate moment in private, but he was rooted to the spot. His wand was clenched tightly in his hand, as his eyes scanned Harry for any sign of change in his attitude, body language or anything that would indicate that he was about to hurt Ginny again. 

 

He hated watching him so, but he had to. It was really his fault that Ginny was hurt in the first place. If he had been thinking, he would have realized that Harry was a threat to Ginny until they figured out what the hell was wrong with him. They both had been very foolish. As the sobs began to quiet down, Ginny pulled back from Harry and wiped his tear stained, bloody face. 

 

“What did you do to him?” Ginny wheezed, and turned accusatory eyes on Ron. He heard Hermione give an indignant tut of her own. Chancing a glance at his wife, he was just in time to see her roll her eyes at him. Harry, however, spoke up for Ron.

 

“He didn’t do anything that I wouldn’t have done if the situation had been reversed.” Harry locked eyes with Hermione for a brief second before Ginny pulled her wand and waved it in front of his face, effectively removing all the blood. Hermione stepped forward and pointed her wand at his eye, and it was healed instantly. 

 

Ginny fixed his nose and Harry took a deep inhale through it, then closed his eyes and let the women’s magic swirl around him. Hermione got on her knees as well and lifted Harry’s shirt. She and Ginny gasped loudly, and then both shouted, “Ron!” He gave a startled jolt.

 

“How could you? You’ve broken his ribs!” Hermione yelled, fixing him with an angry glare. Ron looked at Harry’s exposed chest, and cringed at the black and blue marks on the right side of his torso. 

 

“I don’t know how to fix broken ribs, he needs to go to St. Mungo’s!” Hermione said.

 

“No!” Harry shouted.

 

“You must, I can’t fix them either,” Ginny whispered.

 

“I can fix them,” Ron said, as he locked eyes with Harry, trying to convey how sorry he was to have damaged him in such a manner. No one questioned the fact that Ron could heal Harry’s ribs. Ginny and Hermione would have known that emergency medical training was a part of the Auror program. Although, that particular section had given Ron hell, he’d prevailed and had become quite good at it. 

 

Ron stepped forward and squatted in front of Harry, as his sister and wife watched carefully. He gave his wand a complicated series of movements, while he mumbled a few words. There was a slight popping sound like someone cracking their knuckles, and Harry winced, but then a moment later he was breathing regularly. Ron waved his wand once more and the bruises disappeared. 

 

“Sorry,” Ron mumbled, but Harry shook his head, seeming to indicate that there was no need for an apology. 

 

Ginny pulled down Harry’s shirt, and seemed to be giving him a once over to make sure they had healed everything. Ron sat heavily on the bed knowing that he was going to catch even more hell from the two head strong women for what he was about to say, but he was going to say it nonetheless. 

 

“You two have to leave. You’ve seen him, he’s healed, and that’s enough for now.” As expected, this statement was met with an onslaught of protest from Ginny and Hermione. 

 

“ENOUGH!” Ron bolted from his seated position, looking extremely tall and intimidating. He effectively silenced all the chatter. “I’m sick and tired of everything I say being challenged! Harry and I have to work out what is going on and it will be a lot easier to do without worrying that something is going to happen to you two!”

 

“You don’t think we could assist you in that?” Hermione asked, crossly.

 

Ron folded his arms over his chest. “Not today. We need to do some investigating, and I need to ask Harry some questions. I’d feel better if it were just the two of us.”

 

“See!” Ginny rasped. “He does the same damn thing you do!” she stood quickly, and pointed an accusatory finger at her husband. “Why don’t you two just marry each other and call it a day because clearly, you don’t need us!” she breathed heavily. “You would think by now that you’d know that you didn’t marry some feeble brained, frail women!” Her face grew bright red behind her freckles. 

 

“I’m sick to death of being kept in the dark! If it wasn’t for Hermione, I wouldn’t know a damn thing about what’s happened over the last few days! Don’t you two idiots realize that had I been told about what happened days ago, then maybe I would have recognized something was going terribly wrong with my husband, and maybe avoided this whole mess?” 

 “There was no way to do that since we don’t actually _know_ what is happening to Harry and had no way of knowing if it was going to happen again!” Ron shouted, while Harry looked quite ashamed. 

“Really? Well your wife seems to have figured it out,” Ginny bit out, smugly. All eyes turned to Hermione. 

 

“I think he’s being poisoned,” she sighed, and locked eyes with Harry. Ron sat heavily on the bed again. 

 

“Really, and what makes you say that?” Ron asked calmly, but the look Hermione shot him said that he was her least favorite person at the moment.

 

“Are you surprised that my little brain actually riddled it out?”

 

“Bloody hell, Hermione! No one in this room, in all of bloody England for that matter, thinks you’re stupid!”

 

“No, not stupid, forgive me, just lacking common sense!” she glared.

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Ron stood again. “Do we really have to do this shite now?” 

 

“Don’t you speak to me like that, Ronald Weasley!” Hermione stood quickly, and poked him hard in the chest. “I am really angry with you right now!” she shouted.

 

“Yeah, well I don’t really care, _right now_!” Ron mocked her. 

 

“Enough, you guys!” Harry said, standing slowly. “Can you two deal with that later? We need to discuss this.”

 

Ron’s face was completely red as he stared daggers at his wife. Hermione turned her back to him, taking a few calming breaths, and then she sat down on the wobbly desk chair. Her hands shook slightly, and Ron knew she was probably feeling a bit fearful to say what she was about to say. It was always his natural instinct to comfort her, so he had to actually restrain himself to keep from reaching out and grabbing her hand. What she was about to tell them was important, and he felt foolish for rowing at a time like this. If Harry was really being poisoned, well that just opened up a whole new batch of questions and problems. 

 

“Go on.” Ron said softly, giving Hermione an encouraging nod. She didn’t roll her eyes, so he took that as slightly positive sign. 

 

“Well,” she swallowed. “Um, Harry, when was it that you started to feel weird the other day, you know, at my office?” Harry looked around for a moment, thinking, but before he could answer, Ron chimed in.

 

“After he drank that tea!” All eyes turned to him. “You got right snarky after you drank that tea, plus you said it tasted bitter!” 

 

“And the soup tasted bitter, last night!” Ginny exclaimed. Harry swallowed, and then slowly began to pace. 

 

“That’s what I thought,” Hermione said slowly, and they all seemed to pause and wait for a reaction from Harry. 

 

“I’m so sick of people messing with me!” he said, and he truly sounded like he was ill. “FUCK!” he shouted, and punched the wall causing a chunk of plaster to crumble to the floor. Everyone in the room froze. Ron made sure to stand between Harry and the women, for if Harry was going to attack someone, it was going to be Ron. Harry turned around, and seemed to recognize that he had scared everyone. 

 

“I’m sorry, I’m just…tired,” he whispered, and sullenly raked his hands through his hair. 

 

Hermione was the first to speak. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I really should have made the connection between the tea and your behavior sooner. I just scarcely remembered that you even had tea. I was a bit distracted…by the woman flirting with my husband,” Hermione ended, with a mixture of embarrassment and bitterness.

 

“That’s it!” Ron shouted, startling everyone. “The sexy bird that fixed your tea! You remember, she was really flirty with you, and had those giant…” Ron paused, with his hands in front of his chest indicating how large the woman’s breasts were, but then noticed the looks of indignation he was receiving from his wife and sister, and quickly dropped his hands. 

 

“Er…um, I mean the…she had dark hair and…and blue eyes…and was very pale,” Ron finished.

 

“You sure seem to remember a lot of details about her,” Hermione raised an irritated eyebrow. Ron cleared his throat.

 

“Well, Harry, was she the one who served you at the Muggle takeaway place?” Ron asked, trying to take the attention off of him. Harry shook his head.

 

“It was the same people that always serve me, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t have gotten in the kitchen and did something to the food.”

 

“Plus it’s a Muggle place, it would be easy for her to simply go in the kitchen, and stun the entire room if she wanted,” Ginny said, as she stepped up beside Harry and took his hand. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but didn’t reject her efforts.

 

“That’s risky. The tea was understandable but how would she know that Harry would even eat the soup. It could’ve been for anyone. This woman is extremely careless or she’s watching your every move. Either way, she is dangerous.” Hermione paused, and looked as though she was plotting ways to kick this woman’s arse. “Who is she anyway, and why is she doing this?” she asked, angrily.

 

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out!” Ron answered, then Disapparated with a loud crack, but a second later he reappeared, looking sheepish for having been impetuous. “Maybe you guys should go, I don’t want to leave you two here alone,” Ron said, even though he knew he was going to be met with a wave of protests. However, before the women could fully refute, Harry spoke up.

 

“He’s right. I don’t want to be alone with you two either,” he said firmly. 

 

“But…but we know what’s happening now, it should be as simple as not taking food from the outside, and you should be fine,” Ginny said, almost pleadingly. It was apparent that she really didn’t want to leave him. 

 

“Gin,” Hermione stepped forward, and took her free hand. “We can’t assume that this is it. We have no idea what else she has in store, and until we get more answers, it would probably be best if we are not alone with Harry… _sorry_ ,” she said that last bit to Harry. He simply shrugged, and gave her an understanding nod. Ron sighed with relief. Finally, someone was listening to him.

 

“Go back with Hermione, Gin. I won’t be able to relax until I know you are safe, and that includes being safe from me,” he looked down sadly, and Ginny threw her arms around him forcefully. 

 

“I am NOT afraid of you!” she whimpered tearfully into his shoulder, and Harry slowly enveloped her in his arms. “I won’t ever be afraid of you! Do you hear me? This was not your fault, okay?” she pulled away from him slightly, and then kissed him. Ron took hold of Hermione’s arm and pulled her to the other side of the small room. He backed her gently into the corner, leaving Harry and Ginny with some privacy.  

 

“Are we all right?” he asked with a nervous quiver in his voice. It was a fact that he and Hermione had legendary rows, but Ron never liked for her to be truly angry with him. Hermione looked down at her hands, and he could tell that she was still bothered by his comments earlier, but she didn’t want to seem petty. “I’m sorry about what I said. You know I don’t think you are stupid in any way or form.” She looked up, and met his eyes.

 

“Ron, you did mean it and it’s fine. I do sometimes lack common sense…” Hermione looked as though it pained her greatly to admit that, but she breathed deeply and continued. “…and I know that bringing her here was not the smartest thing to do. I tried to talk her out of it but the bottom line is, it’s _her_ life and _her_ husband, so we have to respect that,” she paused and looked Ron in the eyes with a touch of defiance. 

 

“You really embarrassed me, yelling at me like that. And I know in the grand scheme of things, this is really minor and immature of me to hang on to it, but it’s how I feel,” she whispered.

 

“I’m sorry…I was just worried that…that something else would happen, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it. It’s my fault that this happened to Ginny in the first place so…”

 

“How is it your fault?” Hermione asked.

 

“I should have…I don’t know…seen it coming or something…should have figured there would be another episode, and been prepared for it,” Ron whispered. Hermione sighed deeply. 

 

“Honestly, I think we all take turns playing the martyr, and for what? It is never our fault when this stuff happens. It is always the fault of the evil person trying to hurt us,” she ran her hands up and down Ron’s chest in a soothing way, and he felt his body relaxing instantly. “Don’t go blaming yourself for something you had no control over. Harry will have enough guilt to drown us all without any of us adding to the pool,” Hermione reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, causing Ron to sigh and close his eyes. 

 

He pressed his forehead to hers and said, “Stay with Ginny tonight, and I’ll stay here, all right?” Hermione nodded. Without opening his eyes, he found her mouth with his own, and kissed her. Before it could get too consuming, he pulled away. 

 

“I love you,” he murmured against her cheek.

 

“I love you too,” she kissed him gently on the lips again. 

 

“I’ll come by tonight and tell you what I’ve found,” Ron whispered. 

 

Hermione nodded. “Hopefully, I’ll have some information for you as well.” 

 

“All right,” Ron paused, and pressed Hermione further into the corner with his body. “And I’ll be able to kiss you good night, then,” he kissed her again, knowing that he’d never be able to sleep through the night without her. This time Hermione pulled away. 

 

“Better not, your goodnight kisses never end at just a kiss,” she whispered, and he knew she didn’t mean it because her eyes were still closed, and her mouth was turned up as though waiting for another kiss. Ron smiled to himself as he ran his thumb along her jaw line with a sigh. She took his hand in hers, and then her eyes fluttered open. Caressingly, she moved his swollen bruised hand in front of her, and he was sure she was going to start in on him again about beating up Harry, but she simply pulled out her wand and healed him. 

 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “You better get going, or…” he glanced over his shoulder, and saw that Ginny was still clinging to Harry. “…you’ll never be able to pry my sister off of Harry.” Hermione frowned up at him, slightly. 

 

“I’m worried about him, Ron,” she hissed. 

 

“I know, so am I, but we’ll get through this. We always do.” Ron said, with more conviction than he felt.  Hermione nodded, then with a brief and final kiss, she stepped around him and left the corner. 

 

Once she managed to remove Ginny from her husband, Hermione gave Harry a peck on the cheek, and the two women Disapparated, leaving a ringing silence behind. Ron looked at Harry for a moment, and watched him almost instantly sink back into the depression he was in before Ginny and Hermione appeared. His wife had been right, as usual. Harry needed to be around Ginny. She brought out something in him that no one else could come close to achieving. Ron walked over to his best mate and placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. 

 

“I’ll be back in a few hours no matter what, all right?” Harry nodded, silently. “I’ll bring some food, too.” Ron added, but Harry shook his head. “You have to eat mate. I’ll get some sandwiches from home, or get mum to make some.”

 

“No!” Harry shouted, and truly startled Ron. “Don’t go to you your mum, all right? Just…just…get Hermione or Ginny to make something, but please don’t…don’t let your parents know what happened, okay?” he looked up at Ron with pleading eyes. 

 

“Yeah, sure, Harry. I had no plans on telling my parents. This will stay between the four of us, all right.” Harry sighed in relief, and Ron knew Harry would sooner kill himself than have any of the Weasleys know what he’d done to Ginny.

 

“I’ll be back soon,” Ron said, and stepped back in preparation to Apparate. His heart went out to Harry as he watched him curl up on the bed, looking lost and deflated. _I’ve got to fix this,_ Ron thought as he Disapparated with a pop.

 

 

 

 

 

AN: Thank you all so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I really enjoyed writing it since I love writing emotions, althought it is sort of a transitional chapter, it was still fun. Please let me know what you think. I LOVE getting reviews! :-)  

Thanks to my wonderful beta, Jamie (my comma commando!) I suck at punctuation and if it wasn't for you, this would probably be one long sentence!  

Again, please leave a review...it'll make me smile like this :-D 

 

Karen


	6. Chapter 6 - Lost

  
Author's notes:

* * *

BONDED

  

Chapter 6 ~ Lost

  

The hour was close to eleven in the evening when Ron stepped out of the fireplace at Potter’s Cove. He stopped abruptly, and stared into the kitchen from his spot in the sitting room. It had been quite a long time since he had seen his wife like this. Every inch of the kitchen table was covered with books and parchment. Hermione seemed to be simultaneously reading three books, while making notes on two pieces of parchment. 

 

Her hair was wild about her head, and she had terrible ink stains on her fingers, with a few smudge marks on her face. Ron felt rather nostalgic as he watched her work. He hadn’t even known that he’d missed this. All the same, the husband in him wanted to make sure she was not overly stressing herself. Hermione was so consumed by her work that she didn’t seem to notice that Ron had entered the kitchen until he spoke. 

 

“Hey, love bug,” he whispered, gently. Hermione jolted violently, and gave a high-pitched squeak. “Sorry!” Ron said, and quickly placed his strong, comforting hands on her shoulders. 

 

“You nearly gave me an attack!” she sighed, and relaxed almost instantly under his massaging grip. Ron kneaded a particularly nasty knot in the middle of Hermione’s shoulder blades. She rolled her head forward with a moan. This went on for a few long moments in silence, with Hermione’s moans and groans breaking through every so often. 

 

“Find anything?” Ron asked softly. He didn’t really want to pull her back into work-mode so soon, but this was rather important. Hermione sighed.

 

“Well, the problem is, I can’t be sure if this person is using a potion from a book, or if they’ve created something new,” she scratched her nose, leaving a speck of ink on the tip. Ron moved from behind her, and took a seat in the next chair. He reached up, and gave her nose a wipe, but only succeeded in making the smudge worse. 

 

“I wish I had a bit of his vomit,” Hermione said, out of the blue.

 

“That’s disgusting, Hermione!” Ron pulled a face. She looked up at him confused at first, because clearly she had been thinking out loud. 

 

“Oh, well, I mean to say, if I had a bit of it, I could have it tested. I have a friend who would be able to do it. He could probably identify the foreign matter in no time.”

 

“What about the pumpkin juice and tarts I left in your office?” Ron asked excitedly, but Hermione was already shaking her head.

 

“I drank the pumpkin juice that morning, and I gave the rest to Marshall. Nothing happened to us, so clearly only the tea had been meddled with,” she said. A shiver ran through Ron’s body at the thought of how close Hermione had come to being poisoned, or possibly attacked by Marshall for that matter. 

   

He sighed. “Well, it’s of no use anyway. I wouldn’t want anyone else involved with this,” Ron said, referring to the co-worker Hermione had mentioned. 

 

“Warren wouldn’t tell anyone if I asked him not to. I suppose he fancies me a bit,” she stated very casually with a chuckle, as she flipped though the pages of a very thick book. 

 

“He what? Who is this wanker?” Ron asked, now completely off the topic at hand. Hermione continued leafing though the large book. 

 

“He’s not a wanker, Ron. He works in the lab in my department. He’s practically a genius at breaking down—” Hermione looked up suddenly, as if just realizing that she’d said something to get her husband’s jealously to activate. “Honestly, Ron, Warren’s one hundred if he’s a day,” she snorted. Ron opened his mouth to say something about keeping an eye on randy old codgers, but Hermione talked over him.

 

“What did you find out?” 

 

Ron sighed deeply. “Nothing really, I mean, I’m pretty certain that the dark-haired bird is the one responsible. No one has heard of her at the Atrium canteen, and I even spoke with the bloke responsible for hiring. She must have put a powerful memory charm on them, and that could take me weeks to crack,” he said as he raked his hands through his hair. 

 

“I can’t rightly haul in all the employees of the canteen to break the memory charm without drawing all sorts of attention, and answering a shite-load of questions. I’ve done enough lying,” he sighed, miserably. “And there are far too many people in the Ministry to start questioning anyone who may have been served by her,” Ron stood, and began to pace.

 

“What really gets me is how random it all could have been. I mean, she was either very lucky to catch Harry going into the canteen on that particular day, or she was very patient and waited for her opportune moment. It’s not as if we go in there everyday, and I was the one who was hungry,” Ron gave a short, weary laugh that held just a touch of guilt. 

 

“Don’t start with the blaming, if that’s where you were headed. I’ve told you, we can’t afford it,” Hermione grabbed his hand as he paced by her. He stopped, and gave her a curt nod, then resumed his pacing. 

 

“I’m inclined to believe,” Hermione began, “that she’s been watching Harry. If she’d simply poisoned a whole kettle of tea or a full pot of soup, well then, there would have been reports of people getting attacked all over.” Ron stopped, and looked down at his wife, not sure if this was good news or not. “Harry is a lot more powerful, and has a lot more control than most wizards, so if it made him lose his mind rather quickly, I expect there would have been attacks right inside the Ministry if others had drank the tea,” Hermione finished. 

 

Ron flopped heavily onto the seat beside her. “This is good news, only because we won’t have to worry about random people like…my dad or something coming upon this stuff and hurting someone,” he pinched the bridge of his nose with weary fingers, as his stomach gave an involuntary lurch at the thought of his father attacking his mother, but he quickly shook that from his mind. 

 

“But it’s bad,” he continued, “because clearly she knows what she is doing, and that means she’s smart. We don’t know a damn thing about her, not even her name. That description means nothing. For all we know, she could have used Polyjuice, or she could be a Metamorphmagus.” Ron sighed exhaustedly, and let his head fall on the table.

 

Hermione ran a soothing hand through his hair, and he gave a weak smile. “I don’t really think she is all that smart, Ron,” she said, and Ron arched a hopeful eyebrow.

 

“Really, why do you say that?”

 

“Well, I think the reason that Harry vomit’s after he ingests the poison, is because she didn’t know how much to use. Either that or she didn’t brew it correctly. That means she is either not too skilled at potion making or she’s rather impatient, which is really stupid anyway. Stupid, impatient people always slip up.” The couple stared at each other for a moment, and then Ron smiled.

 

“I could kiss you,” he breathed, happy to cling to any possibility at the moment.

 

“Well, why don’t you, then?” Hermione smiled, and leaned in for a sweet, chaste kiss. Ron took a deep breath and stood.

 

“I’m going to check on Ginny. I promised Harry I’d give him a full report on her well-being,” he made to step away, but Hermione stopped him.

 

“Listen Ron, Ginny told me something earlier. She said that when Harry was…was…you know, choking her, his eyes flashed red.” Ron sat back down, immediately. 

 

“What? Red like blood-shot or red like, where the green should be, there was red instead? What does that mean? Why are you just telling me this?” his voice rose frantically. Hermione’s eyes went wide, clearly she was not expecting this reaction from him.

 

“I’m sorry, but I was…I got side tracked, with research and…it doesn’t mean what you think it means,” Hermione placed her steady hands on top of Ron’s shaking ones. “It is not Voldemort, although she did say it was his irises that turned red, but only for a second or two. This only confirms what I was saying about the potion not being proper.” Hermione spoke encouragingly, because Ron’s expression was shear terror. “It…it actually has helped me. I’ve got two potions I’ve found that carry some of the symptoms of what Harry seemed to have had.” 

 

She reached into the pile of parchment, scattering some here and there, then came up with two messy pieces. “Here, this one is called, _Dormio Conscio_ , it roughly translates, _to sleep with evil_. The victim will suffer from bouts of uncontrollable anger and rage.” Hermione pushed the parchment in front of Ron.  

 

“However, it says here that the potion works best on people who are already short tempered, so I don’t think it would have caused Harry to do what he did, unless it was boosted in some way. It also mentions that _the eyes are of fire_. Not really sure what that means, I need to read more,” she scratched at her head, and looked extremely knackered in that moment.

 

“This one…” Hermione placed another piece of parchment in front of a completely silent Ron. He took it without question. “…is called, _Letum Putus_ , which roughly translates, _the death of purity_. That could mean killing the good in someone, or killing their soul.” Hermione paused and let Ron read for a few moments. 

 

“This one says that the eyes glow red, and the person is led to do unspeakable acts of evil. Also they are fully aware of their acts but simply do not care,” Ron read out loud, and then looked up at Hermione. “Harry care’s about what he did, so maybe this isn’t it either,” he finished.

 

“Harry cares _now_ , but at the time that he was doing it, he didn’t care. He’s never said that he was fighting it. Harry genuinely felt rage, and wanted to hurt them, even though he says he knew he had no reason to feel that way. Again, this just makes my point that the potion was not brewed correctly, or the amount used was too much,” she paused and breathed. 

 

“See…” Hermione reached forward, and pointed at a line of messy scribble on the parchment. “…I’ve noted here, that for this potion to be truly effective, the culprit needs to add a single drop to the food or drink each day, gradually increasing it over the weeks until the victim is so polluted with the poison, that it consumes them.” Hermione and Ron stared at each other in brief horror. “She probably knew that she couldn’t get access to Harry like that, you know, to poison him daily. So she had to take her chance whenever it came and used a large quantity, but Harry’s system rejected it,” she rambled, breathlessly.

 

“I’m almost praying that this _is_ the poison,” Ron said, and he knew Hermione understood his reasoning, but he explained it anyway. “If this is it, and she was simply too impatient or unable to do it right, then it’s over, because as long as I’m alive, she will never get a chance to poison him again!” Ron stood, with his jaw set defiantly. 

 

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked.

 

“Up to see Gin,” Ron dropped a kiss on her head, and walked out of the kitchen. As he made his way up the steps, he felt a lot better than he had when he first walked in the house. If they couldn’t identify this woman, they could at least know what she was doing to Harry, and come up with a plan to fight it. Ron tapped lightly on the partially opened bedroom door, but got no response from his sister, so he walked in. He found her curled up in the center of the bed, looking extremely small. 

 

“ _Ginny Winny_ ,” Ron whispered her childhood nickname, not really sure if she was awake, but then he heard her sniff, and instantly knew that she was crying. Quickly, he moved to the bed, and climbed in behind her. 

 

“Hey,” he whispered in her ear. She immediately turned over and buried her face in his chest. Ron rolled onto his back, and let his sister soak him with her silent tears. He ran his fingers through her hair, then rubbed her back as he stared patiently at the ceiling. After several long minutes, Ginny took a few calming breaths, and Ron felt her head lift off his chest.

 

“This brings back memories,” Ginny said, with a small watery smile. Ron returned it weakly. He didn’t really want to be reminded of the terrible nightmares he used to have. After the war, he’d been plagued with them, and would often wake up in a cold sweat to find Ginny there, trying to calm him. She’d climb into bed with him, and they’d stare at the ceiling while she talked to him until he calmed down enough to fall asleep again. Soon, he began writing in the journals, and the nightmares faded, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Ginny missed their midnight talks. 

 

Ron squeezed her to him and said, “Yeah, it does,” he wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t cry, Gin. We’ve faced so much in our lives, we can get through anything, you know.”

 

Ginny looked down sadly. “That’s just it. I think, one day it will all be too much, and we won’t get through it.” Ron took a moment. He was never really good at saying the right thing. Most times when he did, it was pure dumb luck. He knew he needed to say something that was going to give his sister some hope and help her get some sleep tonight.

 

“Perhaps you’re right, Gin. Maybe one day we won’t get through it…but it won’t be this time. If you’ve never trusted me before, trust me on this. I will not let anything else happen to Harry, I swear it.” They locked eyes for what seemed a minor eternity, and then Ginny finally gave him a weary smile. Ron pressed his lips to her forehead for a long moment.

 

“That was from Harry. Although, he wanted it to be a lot longer and possibly… _all over_ …” Ron pulled a face as Ginny actually giggled. “…but I told him that was disgusting, and that I’d give you a kiss on the forehead, and call it a night.” She giggled again, and then Ron looked at her seriously.

 

“Are you all right?” he whispered, and she nodded.

 

“I will be,” Ginny said, looking more determined than he had seen her look in quite some time. 

 

“Come by tomorrow. Bring some lunch, and spend some time with Harry since it’s Sunday and we don’t have work. Hermione was right, you know, he needs to see you.” 

 

Ginny’s face lit up spectacularly after hearing those words. Ron kissed her forehead again, and got out of bed. Before he left the room, he stopped at the door.

 

“Gin, make sure that my wife doesn’t stay up all night, please,” he gave her an imploring look. Ginny nodded.

 

“I’ll do my best,” she said, seeming to know that it was a difficult task to pull Hermione away from any book. Ron smiled and made his way back downstairs. Before he got there, however, he began to smell food, more specifically, bacon! He was nearly salivating when he actually made it to the kitchen. Hermione was still planted firmly at the table with the stack of books and parchment before her, however now, there was a stack of sandwiches on the counter and several other containers. 

 

“You cooked?” Ron asked. 

 

Hermione looked up. “Not really, I’ve just made some sandwiches, and these…” she stood and walked over to the counter. “…are for tomorrow morning.” Ron peered into one of the containers. It seemed to be filled with a pound of bacon. Merlin, he loved this woman! There was also a container with eggs, bangers and bread. 

 

“I’ve placed a twelve hour preserving charm on this so you can have it for breakfast. The sandwiches are for tonight. There are crisps and juice in the bag beside it,” she pointed to a brown bag on the counter.

 

Ron looked at her in amazement. “How did you do all this so fast?” he asked, and Hermione fixed him with a worried expression.

 

“Um… _magic_ ,” she smiled at him, and Ron burst into laughter a second later.

 

“Oh, yeah.”

 

“Forgot I was a witch for a moment there, did you?” she smirked.

 

“I guess I did,” he laughed more.

 

“Poor darling,” Hermione ran her hand along his cheek. “You must really be knackered.” Ron chuckled. 

 

“I just forget how amazing you are sometimes,” he leaned forward, and kissed her gently. “I made Harry and me a sandwich earlier, but that was it. I didn’t even think about tonight or tomorrow. Thank you,” he kissed her again, pulling away before he could lose himself in her as he usually did.

 

“Don’t over do it, love. Go to bed soon, all right?” Ron waited for her to give an argument, but she didn’t.

 

“I will, I promise.” Hermione kissed him this time. “Tomorrow, I’m going to make the potions that will counter act both of the ones I showed you before.” Her eyes were intense and Ron knew that she’d probably have forty or fifty bottles of it just waiting to pour down Harry’s throat the very moment he got a little snarky. Something was eating at him, however, and he had to say it, even though he knew it would only send Hermione into overdrive. 

 

“What if it isn’t either of those poisons, or what if she added more to it? What then? The potions they suggest in the book may not work.” As soon as the questions were posed, Hermione tore away from him, flung herself to the table, and began frantically flipping though one of the books. 

 

“You’re right, Ron! Of course, I can’t assume that this is the poison, what I _should_ be doing is making up my own potion to counter act Harry’s symptoms and take what I’ve learned from these two poisons and create something that will cure it all!” She hadn’t even taken her seat, but was already writing madly and muttering to herself. 

 

“Honestly, how could I have been so stupid? She must have added something, how else can you explain the spell Harry used, but had never heard of! _And I haven’t been able to find it in any book, mind you._ ” Hermione rambled on, flipping and scribbling without pause. 

 

Ron sighed, then pulled his wand, and gave the containers a light tap, causing them to shrink down to a miniature version of themselves. He placed them in his pocket, and then walked around the table to Hermione. 

 

“Love bug,” he pulled gently on her arm, and then more forcefully when she wouldn’t respond.

 

“What, Ron? I’m trying to—” He kissed her roughly, and then pulled away a moment later.

 

“If I come back here tomorrow morning and find you asleep at this table, I’m going to be very cross with you!” his blue eyes fixed her with an authoritative glare. 

 

Hermione huffed. “Well, you shouldn’t have given me a brilliant idea just as I had resigned to go off to bed!” she folded her arms. Ron snorted, knowing that she was right. 

 

“Still, don’t be at it all night okay. Gin needs you,” he said, and could see Hermione soften. He knew that would get her, and thought to himself, _I am brilliant_. With one final kiss, Ron exited the kitchen, and could hear Hermione already back at work before he made it to the door. 

  

*****

  

Harry awoke to the sound of water running in the bathroom. For a moment, he’d thought he was home, but couldn’t figure out why his neck had a cramp in it and his back was hurting terribly. Sadly, as soon as his eyes blinked open to the blurred vision of the water stained ceiling, Harry knew he was not at home. 

 

As miserable as he felt, he still pulled himself out of bed and put on his glasses. He could hear Ron finishing up in the bathroom. A moment later the door swung open and Ron stepped out, clad only in boxers. He started slightly when he noticed Harry was awake. 

 

“Hey, mate, sleep well?” Ron asked, hesitantly. 

 

Harry snorted. “What do you think?” he snapped, and then rolled his neck, trying to get out the stiffness. Ron said nothing, simply began to get dressed.

 

“Going somewhere?” Harry asked, trying hard to fight the bitterness in his voice, but he was a touch annoyed that Ron felt the need to baby-sit him. Harry could barely sleep as it was, he didn’t need the fear that he could possibly attack his best mate in the middle of the night looming over his head. If Ron had really wanted to help him, he would have stayed with Ginny, that would have ensured Harry a less fretful night’s sleep. 

 

“Going to check on Hermione and Gin,” Ron said, not seeming the least bit bothered by Harry’s snarky tone. Harry instantly felt guilty. All Ron was trying to do was make sure they all were okay. Even if he was babysitting, Harry knew that Ron would not rest unless he knew they were all safe. He was the glue that held them together. Harry watched as Ron gave his wand a flick, and the cot he had slept on folded itself then slid under the bed. 

 

Harry cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he mumbled. Ron nodded. 

 

“I need to make sure that Hermione actually went to bed. I have a sneaking suspicion that she didn’t.” Harry smiled briefly at the image of Hermione hunched over a stack books, working until the wee hours of the morning. Some things never change, Harry mused. 

 

“Gin’s coming by around lunch…” Ron began. “…I thought it would be good for you…for you both.” Harry swallowed thickly. God, he needed Ginny, but at the same time he was terrified to be around her. If even a shadow of the fear he saw in her eyes the other night returned, it would surely kill him. He wanted to hold her and kiss her and tell her that he loved her, but a small part of him kept saying; _you hurt her_. Although that voice was small, it ruled his thought process making him believe that he didn’t deserve her forgiveness, her understanding, or her love. He deserved to be punished for not being strong enough to fight that poison, or whatever was happening to him. 

 

Rationally, Harry knew that was ridiculous, but knowing that still never kept him from breaking out in a cold sweat whenever he thought of what would have happened had Ginny not had the presence of mind to fight for her life. Harry sat back on the bed, fighting to keep from drowning in his despair. 

 

He watched, transfixed, as Ron tapped a container with his wand, and the room quickly filled with the fantastic smell of breakfast. He and Ron had sat up last night eating the delicious sandwiches Hermione had prepared and discussing everything Ron had found out. Harry was ever so grateful that his friends were so thorough and dedicated because, last night, he was honestly on the verge of insanity. But there was hope now, hope that even if they didn’t catch this woman and find out what her motives were, if she poisoned him again, they may have an antidote. He knew Hermione would not stop until she had something, and Harry was determined not to leave that ratty old room until that happened. 

 

There was a loud gurgle in the room, Ron turned to Harry and asked, “Was that your stomach or mine?” Harry shrugged, and the two men chuckled. Ron grabbed a hand full of bacon, and began to munch heartily. Harry soon joined him, thinking how wonderful it felt to do something normal. Before long, Ron was finished eating and was tossing his cloak around his shoulders. 

 

“After I check on the girls, I’m going to that Muggle town and see what I can find out at that restaurant. I’ll be back before Ginny is due to come, so don’t worry...” Ron patted Harry’s shoulder. “…if you feel weird about being here alone with her, just tell her to wait downstairs for me,” he finished, looking unsure of that comment.

 

Harry snorted. “You know as well as I do, I won’t be able to _tell_ her anything. She’ll do what she wants.” 

 

Ron nodded wryly. “Too right, but I’ll be sure to talk to her when I get there.” Harry smiled with a nod, and Ron Disapparated without another word.

 

Silence rang though the room, and Harry instantly felt lonely. Trying to keep his mind from exploding under the weight of all the things running through it now, he concentrated on eating his food. Afterward, he carried himself to the bathroom to clean up. Once he’d brushed his teeth, he realized that Ron had used the only towel _and_ had left it in a wet heap in the middle of the floor. He really was a slob, Harry chuckled to himself. 

 

Just as he stepped out of the bathroom to get his wand and dry the towel, there was a sharp knock at the door. Harry jolted and grabbed his wand.

 

“Housekeeping!” A woman’s voice called from the other side of the door. Harry cautiously approached the door, his wand held firmly in his hand. She rapped sharply on the door again, just as Harry violently wrenched it open, and thrust his wand in the face of a very surprised woman. The adrenaline was pumping so hard through his veins that it took Harry a full minute to realize that he recognized this woman. It was Caroline.

 

“Harry!” she panted fearfully, and he lowered his wand swiftly. 

 

“Caroline! What are you doing here?” Harry shouted.

 

“I work here,” her eyes were still wide as she answered him. Harry looked beside her and saw a cart full of towels, sheets and cleaning supplies. In her arms she held fresh linens for him. “What are you doing here?” she asked, as Harry stepped back to let her into the room. 

 

“I…er…” Harry stammered, but Caroline seemed to come to her own conclusion as she placed the clean linens on the desk.

 

“Are you and Ginny having troubles?” she asked, looking sick with worry. Well that was a loaded question, Harry thought. The truth was, _yes_ , he and Ginny were having problems, but not the type that Caroline was thinking about. Fortunately, she continued, unwittingly giving him a plausible lie to tell her.

 

“Are you still ill?” she asked, and Harry grabbed onto that story with both hands. 

 

“Yes! What I mean to say is, I started feeling ill again on Friday, after you left with Ethan. So we thought it best that I not be around the children,” Harry said, rather quickly. Caroline appeared to not really believe that story, and now that Harry had heard it out loud, he realized that it _was_ quite stupid. Why would he need to leave on the weekend when school was not in session, and there would be no children around to get sick? 

 

“I’m sorry, Caroline. I didn’t mean to lie to you,” Harry sighed. “It’s just, I can’t really tell you why I’m here, all right? Just know that Ginny and I aren’t…well we aren’t splitting up,” he met her eyes briefly, and she looked as though she believed him. 

 

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I understand Harry, I was married before,” Caroline smiled. “Well, I ought to get back to it. I have to go to my other job in a few hours and I don’t really have time to waste,” she shook her weary head.

 

“Just how many jobs do you have?” Harry asked, feeling quite sorry for her all of a sudden. She was a lovely woman, and he really wished she could spend more time with her son. He would give her money, but he knew she would never take it. Ethan attended the school free of charge, as did a lot of the students, but Harry wanted to do more for her. Maybe Ginny could give her a job at the school, he thought, and a small smile came to his face. He’d talk to Ginny about it this afternoon. 

 

“Two, I work here a few mornings a week, and then I work at the pub the other days, as well as some evenings too. I don’t mind—” There was a noise in the hall that sounded like a floorboard creaking. When Harry turned to see if someone had stepped up to the opened door, the only thing he saw was a jet of red wand fire that hit him square in the face.

 

Everything went black.

 

*****

 

Harry moaned as he slowly came back into consciousness. His head felt as if someone had filled it with hot marbles, and then shook them around for hours. His eyes blinked open to the blurred vision of the water stained ceiling again, and he groaned. His glasses were gone, and he was on the floor. What was he doing on the floor? 

 

Harry ran his left hand over his face, and raked it though his hair. He hazily saw that his glasses were down by his feet, and he quickly grabbed them with his right hand. The room should have come into clear view, but the vision through his right eye was obscured by a big red thumb print on his lens. 

 

Harry looked down at his right hand, and with a sickening jolt, realized that it was covered in blood. Immediately he looked to his right and actually shouted, as he found that he was lying in a vast pool of blood that had spilled from Caroline’s slashed throat.

 

Harry jumped to his feet instantly, trembling and fighting the urge to scream. He was paralyzed with fear. Caroline’s long body was sprawled partially under the small work desk in the corner of the room. Her eyes lay half-opened and stared off toward the door as if she were merely sleepy. She was already turning gray. 

 

Harry’s breathing began to increase in time with his pounding heart, as the weight of what had just happened started to press upon him. Caroline was dead, and more than likely, he was the one who had killed her. He didn’t remember, he couldn’t remember! Maybe this was what happened when the poison took full effect, _memory loss_. Harry felt a hot tear slide down his cheek, and a sob escaped his throat. He had done the unthinkable. 

 

A loud crack sounded in the room, and Harry looked up with a jolt. Ron stood in the doorway, and for the briefest second, his best mate looked happy to see him. But then, almost as if in slow motion, Ron’s eyes must have caught sight of the blood on Harry’s face, and then quickly dropped to the floor where Caroline’s body lay. The gasp that came from Ron was sure to cause his lungs to explode and pull the plaster from the walls. 

 

“Wha…wha…” Ron stammered, and Harry immediately began to shake his head. Although a moment ago, Harry was certain that he’d murdered Caroline, now faced with the questioning eyes of the man he considered a brother, Harry wanted nothing more than to proclaim his innocence. 

 

“ _Ron_ …I…I didn’t…” Harry gave a pleading look, and the two men gapped at each other, breathing hard with fear etched to their very souls. Before Ron could respond, however, they heard the sounds of people quickly moving about in the hall. 

 

“I’m…I…I didn’t…” Harry moaned again, and gave Ron one last look, hoping to convey that he did not do this terrible thing to such a sweet woman. He grabbed the medallion around his neck, snatched it off, and let it fall to the floor, then disappeared with a sharp snap. 

  

*****

 

“ _HARRY_!” Ron shouted, standing stock still as his mind seemed incapable of comprehending what he was witnessing. Caroline lay dead before him, and Harry was gone. As if it had just realized it needed to be thinking, Ron’s brain began to go into overdrive, and he was on to damage control. First, he needed to…to do what? He needed to think! 

 

However, a blood curdling scream effectively removed all thought from his mind. Ron turned and saw the older woman from the front desk. She was standing in the doorway holding a hand to her mouth, and another to her chest, while she stared at Caroline’s body with utter fear. She then fixed her terrified eyes on Ron, and began to slowly back out of the room.

 

“I’m an Auror!” Ron shouted, and pulled the collar of his cloak aside to show his medallion. She seemed to believe him, but continued to back out of the room. 

 

“I…I..ha…have to get the manager!” she quivered, and Disapparated in a flash.

 

“WAIT!” Ron shouted, but it was too late, she was gone and Ron knew the manager would be back in a second, leaving him with no time to think up something. Something to buy him some time, something to let him get some answers before he had to be the one providing them, however, the next crack that sounded in the room was not the manager, it was Tonks.

 

“Wotcher, Ron, you move fast!” she said, and her acid green hair looked as though she’d been called in the middle of sleeping or…shagging. She looked over at Caroline’s body and clucked her tongue. “Got another one, then?” Before Ron could even form the words to ask her how the hell she had arrived so fast, another crack announced Douglas to the room. Ron groaned, but then another crack and, McCarthy was there, then Logan, then Millerston, then Dixon and finally, Chief Weinpret. 

 

Ron nearly shite himself. What the fuck! He screamed in his head. Quickly, he began to scan the room for any tell-tale signs that he or Harry had been in there prior to Caroline’s death. Within an instant, his eyes zoomed in on Harry’s medallion two feet away from him. Fortunately, all eyes were on the victim, and no one had yet to begin searching the room. Ron gave his wand a little flick, and the medallion vanished from the floor and reappeared in his pocket. He wasn’t so lucky when he spotted Harry’s wand a second later. At the exact moment he saw it sticking out from under the bed, Douglas bent over and grabbed it.

 

“Got a wand,” he said, examining it carefully. 

 

“Who was the first one on the scene?” The Chief asked.

 

“Weasley,” Tonks piped up with a proud smile, thinking she had just done something good, but Ron had never in his life wanted to choke a woman more than he wanted to choke her. It wasn’t her fault that he was thoroughly screwed, so Ron simply sighed and waited for the Chief to begin questioning him. 

 

“Did you see anyone here when you arrived, Weasley?” Weinpret asked, and all eyes turned to Ron. He simply shook his head, not trusting his voice to be strong enough to tell that lie. His hands were trembling terribly now, so he shoved them in his pockets. “Go get the manager.” The Chief ordered, and Tonks disappeared immediately. Although Ron knew he should remain quiet, he simply had to know why they all appeared so rapidly, and why was his Chief in the field on his day off. 

 

“Sir, how did you all get here so quickly? I didn’t even have a chance to call this in.” The entire room fixed their attention on Ron. Weinpret looked at him curiously.

 

“There’s been a red Dark Mark over this place for, as best as we can tell, fifteen minutes,” he said, incredulously. Ron knew he was gaping at the Chief, and he wanted desperately to stop because it had to seem suspicious, but he simply couldn’t. That’s when he realized his medallion was warm against his skin, and probably had been that way for quite some time. Ron had been summoned, and had not even noticed. No doubt the mad scurry of people in the hall earlier was from everyone fleeing the dark mark. 

 

Just as Weinpret looked ready to interrogate Ron, Tonks reappeared with the manager. A kind, but terrified looking black man stepped into the room. Quickly, he closed his eyes against the sight in the corner even though the small group of Aurors was practically blocking Caroline from view. He turned his back to the ghastly scene, nonetheless, as the Chief stepped close to him.

 

“Do you know this woman?” Weinpret asked gently, the manager nodded. 

 

“Her name is Caroline Connors, she…she works… _worked_ here,” he finished with a whimper. 

 

“Who was assigned to this room?” The Chief asked.

 

“Har…Harry Potter,” the manager stuttered, and it was as if time stood still. Every person in the room collectively held their breath, all except Ron, who was on the verge of hyperventilating. 

 

“What was that?” Weinpret pressed, disbelievingly. 

 

“Well...er…um…” the manager stammered more, “…he…he told me his name was James Evans, but…but I knew it was him Sir, everyone knows Harry Potter.” He swallowed, and looked around the room as if he was afraid the Aurors were going to attack him. The only one he needed to worry about was Ron, however, because he truly felt like stunning the entire room, and then Obliviating the lot of them, just so he could think!

 

“I just assumed…” the manager began to speak again to a room in which every member was giving him their undivided attention, “…that he didn’t want to be bothered. That he was on official Ministry business or something.” He nodded, agreeing with himself. Ron felt like he was soon about to vomit, but he took a few deep breaths, and quickly killed the nausea flowing through him. Weinpret turned to Ron, and the nausea was back with a vengeance. 

 

“Do you know anything about this, Weasley? Why was Potter here?” Ron opened his mouth to try and come up with an answer plausible enough to keep him out of Azkaban, but was momentarily spared as a small pop in the room revealed his sister. Instantly, Ginny’s eyes went wide. 

 

“What’s happened? What’s wrong? Where’s Harry?” Ginny fired off questions to no one other than her brother. Douglas, however, spoke up first.

 

“Do you know where your husband is, Mrs. Potter?” he asked.

 

“She just asked where he was…” Tonks said, “…so obviously she doesn’t know where he is.” 

 

“Well maybe you can tell us what your husband was doing here?” Douglas barked. Ginny turned her eyes back to Ron, and Douglas stepped in front of her in what appeared to be an attempt to block her view of Ron. It may have worked too, if Ron didn’t stand a full foot and a half taller than Douglas. “Don’t look at him, look at me!” He thumped his beefy chest. Ron growled lowly, but held his temper.

 

Ginny held her brother’s gaze just long enough for Ron to give an almost undetectable shake of his head, letting her know not to tell the truth. Anyone else would have missed it, but because they were so close, Ron knew Ginny understood as soon as he saw her eyes change.

 

“Harry…Harry had been sick and…he didn’t want to infect the children. I run a school you know, so he decided to stay here until he felt better,” Ginny said, with her cheeks burning bright red. Ron relaxed just a bit. It was a pretty weak excuse but plausible. A quick scan of the room revealed to Ron that most of the occupants appeared to think the excuse was lacking as well. 

 

Douglas stepped closer to Ginny and with a slimy, smug expression on his face, he asked, “Was your husband having an affair?” Ginny gasped.

 

“Hey!” Ron shoved Douglas hard in the back causing him to pitch forward a bit. “You’re out of line! You will not speak to my sister like that!” Ron shouted.

 

“Well it’s suspicious! Potter has a room at a dodgy Inn, with a woman other than his wife! Am I the only one that thinks something odd is going on here?” Douglas looked around, but no one in the room responded. “Of course, Potter can do no wrong—”

 

“Shut it!” Ron shoved Douglas again.

 

Chief Weinpret stepped between the two men. “Enough!” he shouted. “We have no time for this! Mrs. Potter,” he began again, calmly. “Auror Douglas was merely trying to understand if there was more to this murder than what meets the eye.”

 

“Murder? Who’s been murdered?” Ginny asked, her eyes going wide as saucers. _FUCK_! Ron screamed in his head as he realized that his sister had yet to look to her left, and see what was in the corner of the room. As if the world itself was plotting against him, everyone standing in the corner blocking Caroline’s body from view, moved before Ron could grab hold of Ginny and prevent her from seeing it. Her head turned, and a split second later, she was screaming so loudly, it was like a siren. 

 

“CAROLINE!” she wailed over and over again, before collapsing to her knees. Ron moved instantly, and scooped her up in his arms. 

 

“Do you know her?” Douglas shouted, and tried to pull Ginny’s arms away from her face. She had crossed them over her eyes to shield her from the horrible sight. “How do you know her?” Douglas shouted, and attempted to yank her arm again. Even with his arms full with his sister’s petit body, Ron managed to step back, raise a strong leg, and kick Douglas square in the chest, sending the man stumbling back onto the bed and leaving a large footprint on his robes. For the second time that afternoon, the room went silent with the exception of Ginny’s sobs. 

 

“You keep your fucking hands off my sister!” Ron gnashed out through tight lips. He was rapidly losing all control. 

 

“He’s gone mad!” Douglas shouted, holding his chest.

 

“Weasley! Get a hold of yourself!” Weinpret boomed with an authority only he commanded. 

 

“I’m sorry, Sir, but there aren’t many things that I’ll put above my family. In fact, there aren’t _any_ things that I’ll put above them, not even this job! No one touches my sister!” Like a true mad man, Ron glared at everyone in the room just to make sure they all understood that he was serious. 

 

“Yes, Ginny knows her,” he breathed. “The vic… _Caroline’s_ son is one of her students,” Ron said, standing in the doorway of the cramped room, still holding Ginny’s trembling, sobbing body. He too was trembling, but there was little to be done about that now. It seemed with every second, Ron was digging himself deeper. 

 

“I need to take her home, Sir.” Ron demanded. 

 

“Call for Potter, first.” Weinpret ordered.

 

Ron shook his head. “Can’t,” he said, and awkwardly reached into his pocket, retrieving the blood stained medallion. “This was on the floor when I got here.” Everyone stared at it for a moment. 

 

“You moved evidence, Weasley?” Weinpret asked, with an incredulous bark. 

 

“I wasn’t thinking! I was only expecting to come here and see Harry, that’s it!” Ron shouted, and instantly knew it was the wrong thing to say. 

 

“You knew he was going to be here?” Douglas yelled from the other side of the room, seeming to want to keep as much distance between himself and Ron as possible. “I told you something stinks about this!” 

 

“What’s going on, Weasley?” the Chief demanded.

 

Ron took a deep shuddering breath and began, sounding far more defiant than he felt. “Whatever problems my sister and Harry are having in their marriage are nobody’s concern. So, instead of wondering if Harry was cheating on my sister, perhaps you all should be wondering what the hell happened to him! He has no wand, Harry would never willing leave it…” _even though he did, Ron thought_. “…and we have no way to find him!” Ron spat viciously, dangling the medallion in the air. “I need to take my sister home, now… _Sir_.” 

 

Chief Weinpret surveyed him for a long moment as Ginny’s sobs filled the otherwise silent room. “You take her home, and come straight back here! I am not through with you yet, Weasley.” The two men stared at each other in what Ron was certain was a pissing contest. 

 

He had spoken disrespectfully to the Chief, and had struck a fellow Auror, but he had effectively planted a seed that Harry may have been abducted. That was purely by accident, but he was nonetheless grateful. With a curt nod, Ron let the Chief know that he was still the alpha dog, of sorts, and he was in no way challenging the man. After a final glare at Douglas, Ron cradled Ginny snuggly in his arms, and Disapparated.

 

 

 

AN: Hope this chapter answered some questions. I'm sure it raised a few more, but the next few chapters will do alot of anwering as there are only 4 chapters left. I'm working on chapter 10 right now and that is it! I hope you all will stick with me til the end. There shouldn't be too long of a wait between chapters. Thank you all who have read and reviewed! Thanks to my wonderful beta, Jamie. Let's see, I think you shall be my Punctuation Princess today! LOL You make my work polished and I thank you for it! 


	7. Chapter 7 - Turning Over Stones

  
Author's notes:

 

* * *

 

Chapter 7 ~ Turning Over Stones

  

“Hermione!” Ron shouted, as he made his way across the sprawling lawns of Potter’s Cove. He moved as if he was not carrying a fully grown woman. Adrenaline fueled his muscles and allowed him to run at top speed. As he reached the steps, he awkwardly pulled his wand from his pocket and flicked it. The door swung open wide for him. 

 

“HERMIONE!” Ron wailed, but there was no answer. He quickly made his way to the sitting room and placed Ginny on the sofa. Her crying had not ceased in volume or intensity. 

 

“Gin,” he said, trying to sound soothing, but he was far too frantic for that to be successful. Ginny’s hands seemed to be plastered to her face, almost as if she were afraid that she’d still see Caroline’s body if she removed them. 

 

“Gin!” Ron tried again, and gave her hands a gentle tug. “Please, calm down.” At this point, he wouldn’t even be able to get a calming potion into her mouth. Where was his wife? Merlin! He needed Hermione. Ron stood quickly as he suddenly remembered something. He left Ginny, sobbing steadily, and went to the kitchen. 

 

Ron found the small cupboard labeled, _Children’s Supplies_ , and opened it. He rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. It was a calming potion made for children, and fashioned like an antique perfume bottle, with an atomizer attached. Not all children’s potions could be administered in this manner, but Ginny had found it rather handy to be able to squirt a hysterical child in the face when swallowing a potion simply would not do.  

 

Ron rushed back to the sitting room just in time to see Hermione stepping out of the fireplace. She smiled when she saw him, but only for a fraction of a second. Ron surmised that was how long it took for her to realize that someone in the room was crying. She carried two heavy bags in her hands, and her cheeks looked flushed from the cold. She had been shopping. Ron found that he was rather annoyed that she could find time to shop when their life was in a shambles. However, as soon as the thought came to his mind he dismissed it. Hermione was nothing if not practical, so whatever she was out doing had to have a purpose. 

 

“Where have you been?” Ron shouted. He hadn’t meant to, but it was almost necessary to be heard over Ginny’s wailing. 

 

Hermione gave a start. “I…I went to the apothecary. I…I’ve got the ingredients to work on my…my potions.” Her eyes were wide as she dropped the bags, and made her way around the sofa to Ginny.

 

“What’s happened? What’s wrong with her?” she asked, sharply. 

 

“Help me with her,” Ron said, ignoring Hermione’s questions. “I need to get her calm…here.” He thrust the children’s potion in Hermione’s hand. She looked at it as if he’d given her something never before seen. 

 

“When I get her hands away from her face, give her a blast, all right?” he said, and looked up at Hermione, she nodded. Ron looked down at his sister’s trembling body, and felt as if he was doing an awful job with taking care of her. He couldn’t dwell on that right now, he had to get her calm. 

 

“Sorry about this, Gin,” Ron said, as he grabbed hold of her wrists and gave them a hard tug. As her hands flew away from her red, screwed up face, Hermione gave the atomizer a squeeze, and a puff of pink mist sprayed out the end. It swirled before Ginny’s face for a second, but as she panted, it was quickly sucked in through her mouth and nose.  

 

“Give her another, this is a children’s strength,” Ron said, and Hermione blasted her again. Once Ginny gasped the second dose in, her breathing began to calm, and she was no longer fighting Ron to turn her wrists loose. Her crying continued, but it was a soft weeping now. 

 

Hermione handed Ron the potion. “What happened?” she asked, perching herself on the edge of the sofa by Ginny’s head. She began to stroke Ginny’s hair, causing her to close her eyes and curl in on herself. 

 

Ron took a deep breath. “Caroline is dead.” He hadn’t meant to say it so bluntly, but time was of the essence. Hermione stared at him for a moment as if she was trying to remember who Caroline was. Then he watched as realization dawned on her, and confusion made way for shock and sorrow. 

 

Confusion made a rapid return to her face. “What happened to her?” Hermione asked. 

Ron took another breath, and then began to recount the recent events at the Ramshead Inn. Hermione was near frantic when he finished, but Ron stood anyway and began to make his way to the door.

 

“Where are you going?” Hermione squeaked, close on his heels.

 

“I’ve got to go back to work,” he said, as he turned to her.

 

“What! You can’t go back to work! We have to look for Harry! What am I supposed to do with Ginny! You can’t leave me to figure this out on my own! I haven’t even begun to create the potion! I need to—” Ron quickly picked up the bottle again and blasted her in the face with a puff of the calming potion. Hermione coughed and fanned the air in front of her with her hand.

 

“What the bloody hell did you do that for!” she shouted, and Ron took a step back. If possible, she seemed more agitated, seeing as she was now swearing and that was simply not like Hermione. He contemplated squirting her again, but wisely thought against it. Clearly that tactic wasn’t working, but Ron had no time for this. 

 

“Listen, Hermione,” he grabbed her by the shoulders. “I need you calm! I have to go back to work. I’ve assaulted a fellow Auror, I was insubordinate to my Chief, and as far as I can tell, I’m an accessory to murder! Not to mention, I’ve impeded the investigation by making them think that Harry was kidnapped!” he breathed. “I’ve got to go!”

 

Hermione’s expression was frozen in a state of shear terror, but she seemed to understand, and followed him outside all the same. She was wringing her hands terribly, and Ron wanted to grab her and take her in his arms, but he feared he’d never let her go. Hermione followed him all the way down to the gate. He turned to her, and before he knew it, she was in his arms. 

 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll probably be sacked, so that shouldn’t take too long,” Ron said, with a snorted laugh that held no humor at all. 

 

“Don’t say that!” Hermione yelped, as she pulled away from the embrace. 

 

“It’s…it’s…” Ron swallowed hard, “…it’s a real possibility, Hermione. This is bad…this is Azkaban bad.”

 

“No! Don’t say that!” Tears bubbled out of her eyes. Ron’s fixed her with an intense expression as his heart thumped wildly in his chest. 

 

“Hermione, you need to be prepared for this because it is a real possibility! If I haven’t come back or sent word in an hour, then come down to the Ministry and ask for me. If they’ve arrested me, they will still let me speak with you. Should that happen, I’ll be in the detainee section on the ninth level.” Hermione had gone into a hysterical silence as he spoke, and Ron needed to know that she understood. He gave her shoulders a gentle shake and that seemed to snap her out of her trance. 

 

“Why…why would they arrest you?” Another tear fell from her eye.

 

“Hermione, I have no idea what they’ve found at that Inn. I have no idea what happened in that room from the time I left this morning until the time I came back and found Harry standing over Caroline’s body. For all I know, it could look like I killed her!” he breathed an exhausted, weary sigh, then briefly kissed his wife on the lips, and prayed that the next time he did this, it would not be through the bars of the detainee cell. “I’ve really got to go now.” She only seemed capable of a nod and watched in silence as he stepped on the other side of the gate, and Disapparated.  

   

Ron popped into existence at the doorway of Room Eight in the Ramshead Inn. The room had become a lot less crowded in the few moments he had been gone. Actually, there was only Tonks and McCarthy still in the room. Ron walked in and saw that they had covered Caroline’s body with a sheet. There were little red dots on it from where the blood had soaked through, making it quite clear that the person underneath was not merely resting. Tonks was leaning against the wall, while McCarthy, a tall Irish bloke, sat on the rickety old desk chair.

 

“Where is everyone?” Ron asked.

 

“They’ve all been disbursed to various assignments. We’ve been given the arduous task of waiting here until they come for the body,” Tonks said, a bit sarcastically, then she pulled herself away from the wall, and grabbed Ron by the arm. 

 

“We’re going to step out in the hall for a moment, McCarthy,” she said, and the other Auror nodded, disinterestedly. Tonks pushed Ron through the door and away from the room a bit. “The Chief wants to see you straight away.” 

 

Ron swallowed thickly. “Is he upset?” Ron asked.

 

“That’s a safe assumption,” Tonks raised one eyebrow. “I don’t think he is upset for the reasons you may think, though. Douglas is really trying to make a big deal about what you did,” she paused. “I think he is trying to get you sacked.” Ron’s jaw clinched with the need to really put a hurting on Douglas. He knew the only thing bruised on the man was his ego. 

 

“Weinpret really likes you and Harry, so I don’t think you have too much to worry about, but really, Ron, you were wrong. As much of an arse as Douglas is, he’s your senior officer, you can’t assault him, even if he is a right bastard!”

 

“I know, Tonks, but I meant what I said…no one touches my family!” Ron gritted his teeth, angry all over again. “Gotta go, thanks,” he said, but then stopped suddenly. 

 

“Tonks, you mustn’t tell Remus about any of this.” Tonks looked surprised for a moment at the abrupt change in the conversation. 

 

She shook her head. “You know Remus looks at Harry like a son, he deserves to know…”

 

“I know that Tonks, but there are things going on here that can’t go beyond this group.” Her eyes went wide for a moment. 

 

“Tell me,” she said, in a rather no nonsense tone.

 

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I really wish I could, and I’m already telling you more than I should, but I trust you. However, the fewer people who know the whole truth, the better. Just believe me, it will do more harm than good for you to tell Remus.” Ron stopped speaking, hoping that he had been wise in trusting her, for if she did tell Remus, the man would surely want to activate the Order again, call in all types of reinforcements and create a ruckus none of them could afford at the moment. No, Ron needed time to figure things out. There were already too many people in this as it was. 

 

“I won’t say anything for now, only because I don’t want to worry him, but rest assured, I will tell him, eventually. If Harry is gone more than three days, Remus will know something is wrong anyway. They’ve never gone longer than that without speaking, you know.” Ron gritted his teeth; he did not know that. 

 

He took a deep breath and said, “Fine, I’ll find him within three days,” and then Disapparated on the spot. 

 

Making his way through the Ministry corridors was a lot easier today, since it was Sunday, and many people were not on schedule. Ron was at the Chief’s door a lot sooner than he expected, and his heart pounded in his chest as he rapped on the door.

 

“Enter!” Weinpret barked. Ron stepped into the room and stood in front of the desk. He could feel the Chief surveying him carefully, and Ron wished the man would just get to it.

 

“Have a seat, Weasley,” the Chief said, and although Ron knew it was a command rather than an offer, he was in no mood to be comfortable while he was being sacked. 

 

“No, thank you, Sir, I’ll stand if it’s all the same with you.” 

 

“Suit yourself, Weasley,” he said, and stood as well, then walked around to the front of his desk. “Douglas has requested that you be terminated for what you did to him,” Weinpret grunted, getting straight to the point as usual. Ron felt as though he was going to vomit. Yes, his family was more important than his job, but he still loved it, and if he ever left it, he wanted it to be on his own terms. These were not his terms. 

 

Ron swallowed. “I understand, Sir,” he said, and made to pull his medallion over his head.

 

“What are you doing?” Chief Weinpret asked, causing Ron to pause. “It was requested that you be terminated, but the last time I checked, Douglas was not in charge around here.” Ron let his medallion go with slightly trembling hands. 

 

“What you did was inexcusable, however, you have a spotless record and frankly, you are already a much better Auror than Douglas will ever hope to be.” The two men stared at each other for a long moment. “With that said, you will have to be reprimanded. Two weeks administrative duties, starting tomorrow,” he said, and it was clear the conversation was over. 

 

“Sir, you can’t do that! I need to be in the field, I need to be looking for Harry!” Ron said, frantically.

 

“It’s that, or a two week suspension…without pay. Either way, you will not be in the field.” Ron groaned, loudly. Although, he knew Hermione would not care one bit about the loss of two week’s salary, they had just started to accumulate a nice nest egg in their vault, and Ron would sooner kiss Douglas on the mouth than do anything to mess with that. 

 

He gritted his teeth. “Fine, Sir. I’ll take the administrative duties,” Ron groaned at the thought of sitting at a desk for two weeks, but he kept it to himself. 

 

“You’re dismissed, Weasley.” Weinpret murmured, walking back around his desk and taking his seat. Ron turned silently and walked to the door, thinking that he had made out lucky. Apparently there was nothing suspicious found at the Inn. “Oh, and Weasley,” the Chief called out to Ron before he opened the door, causing Ron to nearly piss himself, “if anything like this ever happens again, you will be terminated, understand?”

 

Ron gripped the doorknob painfully. “Yes, Sir.” He opened the door, but then closed it again. Weinpret looked up from the papers he had already begun to read.

 

“Why are you still here, Weasley?”

 

“Er…Sir, is anyone out looking for Harry?”

 

“What do you think?” the older man asked him incredulously. “I’ve sent three teams out to check known criminal spots. It would help if we had something to go on,” he said, and for a moment, he actually looked worried.

 

“This situation has not left this department, and only goes as far as the Aurors who showed up on the scene. I’m handling all the press, and as far as they know, Potter wasn’t even involved,” he breathed, and sat his papers back down on the desk.

 

“There is much speculation, however, because of the Dark Mark. We were fortunate that the first one was in a remote location and we were able to keep it out of the papers. That was not the case, this time.” He looked down at his desk, wearily. 

 

“I must warn you, do not say anything to the press, and be mindful of what you say out in the open. If word gets out that Potter is missing, it will start a panic, even more than the Dark Mark has,” Weinpret said, as he stood once again, and walked around his desk. 

 

“People go to bed every night thinking that Potter has saved us, and he has, along with you and your wife. We want to keep people thinking that. Potter, unfortunately, still has many enemies. We have no clue as to who would want to take him.” The Chief fixed him with a knowing glare. “Is that something you can help with?” he asked. Ron simply shook his head, thanked the man for giving him some information, and left as fast as he could. 

 

It was somewhat comforting that they were looking in dark haunts for any sign of Harry, because Ron was sure they would not find him. If Harry was no longer suffering from the effects of the potion, then he would surely be somewhere hiding. There was a steady list queuing in Ron’s head of the possible places Harry could be, and he planned to search them all. With a weary sigh, he Disapparated from the safe zone, and an instant later appeared in front of the iron gates of Potter’s Cove.

 

He was no more than three steps inside the gate when the front door flew open and a slender red-head sprinted down the steps toward him. She was closely followed by his brown-haired wife. The two women came barreling toward him, firing off questions like mad women. 

 

“Have you found him?” Ginny shouted. 

 

“Is he all right?” Hermione asked, shrilly.

 

“Where is he?” Ginny panted, coming to a screeching halt in front of him. 

 

“Get inside!” Ron barked, looking around quickly, before grabbing his sister and wife by their elbows and pulling them up the lawn. They both seemed to realize that they needed to keep quiet until they were back inside. 

 

Ron closed the door behind them, and cast a powerful silencing spell. There were wards up, but that wouldn’t stop anyone from simply walking up and listening at a window. The minute the room was sealed, the questions started again. Ron reached over on the table and grabbed the calming potion.

 

“I swear I’ll blast you two if you don’t sit down this minute!” Ginny stepped back quickly and took a seat, but Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. 

 

“Give me that!” she snatched it out of his grip before Ron could even react. “We don’t need a calming potion, we need answers.

 

“I don’t have any bloody answers!” he said, as he gently guided her into a seat. The two women sat on the sofa, while Ron took a seat on the coffee table in front of them. 

 

“I haven’t found him, because I haven’t been able to look for him yet.” He thought that should have been obvious since he’d been gone less than an hour. “I’ve been put on administrative duty, so I won’t be an active part of the investigation.” There was a collective gasp from both of them, but Ginny looked far more frantic than Hermione. Suddenly, Hermione didn’t look frantic at all, she actually looked excited.

 

“This is good,” she began, and Ron knew just where she was going because he’d already thought of it. Now it was time to clue Ginny in, as she still seemed beside herself.

 

“If I’m not apart of the investigation, then I can search for him on my own. They are looking for Harry in old Death Eater haunts and that’s the last place they will find him. And that’s good, because I need to find Harry before anyone else does.”

 

“Ron,” Ginny began, “you’re under the impression I know what the hell is going on! Was Harry taken or not?” Ron realized that he hadn’t told her anything, and apparently neither had Hermione. 

 

“Gin, Harry was not taken. He…he was there when I got there…standing over Caroline, then he left.” Ron finished, trying hard to hold any accusations out of his voice. Ginny shook her head as fresh tears slipped from her eyes.

 

“Harry didn’t do this!” she said, and it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself. 

 

“I’m not saying he did, Gin, I’m just telling you what happened.” Ron took her hand. 

 

“Did he say anything before he left?” Hermione asked. 

 

Ron shrugged. “He said… _I didn’t_.” 

 

“See! That means he didn’t do it!” Ginny shouted, excitedly.

 

Ron hated himself for what he was about to say, but someone had to bring reality to his sister’s world, or it would be harder for her if she ever had to accept that her husband had really murdered someone. “He could’ve also meant, he didn’t _mean_ to do it,” Ron looked down as a brief silence fell over the room. 

 

Ginny sniffed. “That’s not what he meant,” she mumbled to herself, and another long silence followed. 

 

Suddenly, Hermione gasped. “Ron!” she shouted as if he wasn’t sitting right in front of her. “Did Harry vomit?” she asked with wide eyes.

 

“Not while I was there.”

 

“Was there any vomit on the floor?” Ron shook his head, and was beginning to worry about his wife’s obsession with getting some of Harry’s vomit, but he soon found out that’s not what she was after. Hermione shot to her feet and began to pace as the two Weasleys waited, somewhat impatiently, for her to let them in on what her brilliant mind was deducing.

 

“I don’t think Harry killed Caroline,” she finally said.

 

“I knew it!” Ginny shouted, triumphantly. 

 

“Don’t you even want to know why she says that?” Ron asked his sister.

 

“I don’t need to know, I know my husband!” Ginny folded her arms over her chest defiantly, but then her eyes softened. “Go on, Hermione,” she whispered.

 

“Well, the first two times, Harry vomited after having the violent attack, and this time he didn’t.”

 

“What if the poison is working correctly now? What if she knew she was messing it up and fixed it?” Ron asked, but Hermione was already shaking her head.

 

“If that were so, then Harry would have still been evil and violent when you got there. If the potion was working properly, it would not wear off. He probably would have tried to kill you as well, but he certainly would not have been remorseful and frightened like you said he was.” The brother and sister gaped at Hermione for a full minute before Ginny spoke. 

 

“As much as I want to believe you, Hermione,” Ginny began, looking as though it was going to cost her dearly to say the next words out of her mouth, “why would he leave then? If what you are saying is true, why wouldn’t Harry simply tell Ron who had killed Caroline?”

 

“Maybe he doesn’t know, maybe he thinks he did it. There are any number of reasons why Harry could think that. Maybe she gave him another potion to think he had done it. Maybe he doesn’t remember what happened. Who knows, but I’m convinced that Harry didn’t do it!” Hermione said adamantly. 

 

Ginny nodded, “I’m convinced too!” she said, and they both turned their attention to Ron. 

 

“So am I,” he nodded timidly, and an uneasy silence fell upon them again, as his agreement was the least adamant. 

 

Ron looked at the clock. It was only two in the afternoon. He knew he wouldn’t be able to begin his search until at least sunset. The less attention he attracted, the better. He explained that to Ginny after she began to wonder why he was still sitting there. Ginny stood exhaustedly, and smoothed her hands down her jumper with a sigh.

 

“Where are you going?” Ron asked.

 

“I’ve got to notify my staff that school will be closed tomorrow, and I’ve got to go to Ethan,” she said with another sighed, and it was obvious she was fighting off a new bout of tears.

 

“Ginny, you can’t do any of that!” Ron said frantically, as he stood with her. 

 

“What? Why not?” 

 

“Gin, closing the school will bring too much unwanted attention!” 

 

“Attention from whom?” she shouted. 

 

“From the press, from the Ministry! No one outside of our office knows about Harry. How would it look if his wife closed down the school the day after a red Dark Mark appears? Parents are already going to be frightened because I’m sure it will be all over the next edition of the Daily Prophet. As much as I hate to say it, you’re the wife of Harry Potter, and there is a price that comes with that. People are going to be looking at you, at all of us. We have to act normal.” 

 

Ginny hung her head and said, “Ron, I can’t stand before my classes tomorrow and pretend as if nothing is wrong with me. My husband is missing, and a dear friend of mine has been murdered. Caroline was a friend to us all, the staff will be very upset behind this.” A few tears trickled from her eyes. 

 

“What is the normal protocol when a child has a loss in the family?” Hermione asked, coming up beside them. 

 

Ginny sniffed. “Um, well it’s only happened once, and the child was given as much time away from classes as needed. We also had a grief counselor on hand for her.”

 

“What about the staff?” Hermione followed up.

 

“We haven’t had any losses that have affected the staff yet,” she sniffed again, “so I don’t know what to do, actually.”

 

“Your staff comes in early, have a meeting with them before the students arrive, and then make the decision from there,” Hermione said. 

 

“Why can’t I tell them now?” Ginny whinged. 

 

“Because Gin,” Ron’s voice rose slightly, as he gripped his sister’s shoulders. “You are not supposed to know about any of this! That is why you can’t go to Ethan now. You went to that Inn to visit your husband, and as everyone understands it, Harry was not even one of the Aurors on the scene. How are you going to explain that? How are you going to explain the fact that you know Caroline is dead and no one has informed you yet?” Ron maneuvered her back to the sofa and made her sit. 

 

“Let them come to you and tell you about Caroline. Then you can inform your staff, and then you can go to Ethan. For now, let him be with his family.” 

 

“He has no family, Ron!” Ginny shouted. “No one! Not anymore! His father is dead and now his mum! There are no grandparents, he stays with an old neighbor when Caroline is working and that’s probably where he is now!” She finished with a sob, and Ron enveloped her in his arms. 

 

“I’m sorry, I know you care for him, Gin, but you have to wait. If he has no one, then surely, this neighbor will be notifying you soon, and then you can be there for him.” She sniffed loudly, and gave a slight nod. 

 

“We just have to wait, all right?” Ron looked at both women and they nodded.

 

Several hours passed with hardly any speaking. Hermione busied herself with the ingredients she’d purchased from the apothecary, while Ginny made food and cleaned things that didn’t need to be cleaned. Ron, on the other hand, nearly wore a path in the floor from his incessant pacing. 

 

As the sun went down, Ron prepared himself for the first place he was going to go in his search for Harry. He was quite certain that he’d find him, so he was now thinking of what he might say to get him to come back. A tap, tap, tap at the window interrupted Ron’s thoughts. 

 

On the kitchen windowsill sat a large barn owl with a letter in its beak. Ginny was the first to it, as she was already in the kitchen. The letter was from a Mrs. Evergood, Ethan’s babysitter. It was brief and to the point, and Ginny moved stoically to the foyer to gather her cloak from its hook. 

 

“I’ll be back shortly. I’m going to go get him.” 

 

“Gin, wait,” Ron called to her, and she turned sharply, ready to battle him. “I need Harry’s invisibility cloak,” he said, and it was clear Ginny didn’t expect that as she took a moment to answer.

 

“Um…it’s in the chest at the foot of our bed,” she said, as she stepped into the fireplace. “Find him, Ron,” she whispered pleadingly, and all Ron could do was nod. “Nine Forrest Glen,” Ginny shouted, and vanished in a green whoosh. 

 

He moved up the stairs quickly, and retrieved the cloak. Hermione was still bent over a bubbling caldron, intensely working on whatever she was creating. She managed to stop long enough to give Ron a bone-crushing hug and beg him to be safe. 

 

He threw the cloak over him and vanished, but before he opened the door, he peered through the window. No reporters appeared to be hovering around, so he stepped out, and hastily made his way to the gates to Apparate.

 

An instant later, Ron arrived in front of 12 Grimmauld Place. He gave his wand a wave and the door appeared. Another wave unlocked it, and he quickly went inside. A shiver ran though him as he closed the door behind him. This place had always been creepy to Ron, and he surmised it probably always would. 

 

It had been abandoned for the last five years. There had been no need to keep it as the Order’s headquarters any longer, and Harry never really wanted it to begin with, but he couldn’t bring himself to sell it. Ron lit the tip of his wand, bathing the foyer with light. Large cobwebs seemed to be hanging everywhere, and Ron quickly looked above him and around him for any sign of the eight legged creatures. 

 

He made his way to the steps, but as he got to them, he knew Harry hadn’t been up them, no one had for that matter. The thick layer of dust was undisturbed. Looking behind him, Ron saw the tracks his own large feet had made and sighed in defeat. Harry was not here. Honestly, how could he have gotten in without a wand? All the same, Ron had to be certain so he continued through the spooky place until he had searched it from top to bottom, coming up empty. 

 

This had been his first choice, and he was certain that he’d find Harry here. Now he had to go to his next choice, although in his gut he knew he’d come up empty there too. Honestly, Harry could be anywhere in the world. Ron squashed down that thought, as it was too early in his search to start feeling hopeless. 

 

As he opened the gate at Potter’s Cove, several hours later, Ron felt like crying. He was dirty and exhausted. He’d been to half a dozen places that he thought Harry might go, with no results. He’d fallen down the steps in the Shrieking Shack, trying to get a spider off of him. And he had been nearly bitten by a far too vicious dog when he’d gone to Privet Drive. That had been a true moment of desperation, as Harry had stated on more than one occasion that he’d never set foot anywhere near that place again. But Ron would consider himself a poor excuse for an Auror if he left just one stone unturned.

 

When he stepped though the door, Hermione and Ginny turned instantly at the sound of the door opening to an invisible force. Their wands were drawn immediately, and Ron quickly tossed the cloak off his head and shoulders. The gasp of excitement from them, rapidly gave way to disappointment as the women saw that Ron was alone. Ginny raked her hands through her hair, and seemed almost too weary to cry. Hermione was the first to move, appearing to notice that her husband had quite a few cuts and bruises. 

 

“Are you all right?” she asked, as she pulled him into the sitting room. Ron sat heavily on the sofa, and looked to his right at a small lump on one of the cushiony chairs. He surmised that it was Ethan under that bundle of covers. Taking a deep sigh, Ron realized for the hundredth time that day, how truly fucked up everything was. As he told his wife and sister of his misfortunate search for Harry, he began to feel as though he may never see his mate again. To cover the sudden lump in his throat, Ron coughed.

 

“I’m going to keep looking, I promise you.” He took Ginny’s hand, and she gave a brief nod. Had it only been yesterday when he promised her that he would not let anything else happen to Harry? Ron hung his head miserably. 

 

“We should get some rest,” Hermione began, “we all have a busy day tomorrow.” Everyone nodded silently. Ginny went to the little lump of covers and lifted it in her arms, revealing Ethan’s sleep tangled black hair. She walked passed them silently, and headed for the steps, then seemed to have forgotten something because she turned back and walked over to Ron. He looked up at her expectantly. She had such a troubled looked on her face, and Ron knew the only one who would be sleeping tonight would be Ethan. Suddenly, Ginny pressed a kiss to his forehead as a strained tear slipped from her eye. 

 

“Thank you.” She turned before he could reply, and disappeared up the steps. Ron took a deep breath and a new determination coursed though his blood. He would find Harry tomorrow, or die trying!

  

*****

  

Three weeks later, Ron was still steadfast in his determination to find Harry. It was true that he had moments filled with such soul-wrenching hopelessness that he found it hard to breathe, but he carried on nonetheless. The only thing more fruitless at this point was his search for this mystery woman. Everywhere he looked for Harry, he kept his eyes peeled for anyone fitting that woman’s description, since that’s all he had to go by. 

 

As Ron looked at his watch, he sighed with relief, it was almost time for his shift to end. His administrative _punishment_ had been completed a week prior with no further actions, much to Douglas’ protest. Ron was back in the field, now with his shift-time spent searching for Harry in the most unlikely places imaginable. However, the real work would take place the minute he was officially off duty. 

 

The search for Harry had become extremely difficult. He had no new places to search, and was now forced to pick places at random based on Harry’s personality, as well as revisit the original spots. Remus had been pulled into the fray, as true to her word, Tonks had informed her husband the moment he questioned why he hadn’t heard for Harry in four days. Needless to say the couple was fit to be tied when they learned the true story. However, they had proven to be good for the cause with both of them helping on the search. The problem was, it wasn’t as if they could go around with a photograph of Harry and ask, _have you seen this man?_ And there lies the question, how do you really search for a man who isn’t supposed to be missing?

 

 A large part of Ron wanted to alert the press, sod it all, and let everyone know what was going on. What if this person was counting on the fact that they were keeping it quiet? At least ten times a day, he had to almost physically restrain himself from going to the Chief and telling him all that he knew. What if keeping this from Chief Weinpret would be the cause of Harry’s death? God, that question kept Ron up at night, and had his stomach so tightly constricted that he was certain he’d given himself an ulcer. 

 

As he and Remus concluded their search of Grimmauld Place _again_ , Ron apparated to Potter’s Cove, while his old professor went home. Ron needed to check on Ginny and Hermione before he went out on another fruitless pursuit; he always went back out on his own after the group search was concluded. 

 

He found only Ginny, when he stepped through the door. She was sitting by the fire, reading to Ethan. It seemed the little boy had finally understood that his mum was not coming back. He had asked for her repeatedly for the first week or so, and it was all Ginny could do not to fall to pieces every time she had to remind him that his mum was gone. 

 

Ron had over heard Ethan ask Ginny if his mummy had left because she was angry with him for putting milk in his shoes. Ginny simply burst into tears, leaving Hermione to explain to the child that it was nothing of the sort. Now, Ginny seemed almost programmed in her behavior. Everything was on a schedule, and she never veered from it. 

 

“Hey,” Ron said, leaning over to kiss her forehead, then he dropped one on Ethan’s as well. “How are you?”

 

“Fine,” she said, staring into the fire. She was not though, and Ron didn’t know what to do to make her fine again.

 

“Is Hermione around?” 

 

“No, she said she was going to be working late, and then probably go home…your home,” she clarified. Ron and Hermione had practically moved in over the last few weeks. It was a hard thing to do, but as Ron was barely sleeping as it was, it didn’t really matter where he laid his head when he finally did. 

 

Running interception with the rest of the family was a job in and of itself. Hermione had given herself that unofficial task. For the time being, she had managed to convince everyone that Harry was working whenever anyone popped in for a visit. No one really questioned it due to the fact that they hardly saw Ron either, _and_ the bizarre Dark Mark was enough to make people understand why the two Aurors were extremely busy. 

 

Ron looked down at Ginny and wanted so desperately to take away her pain, but he knew the only way to do that was to find her husband. “I’m going to stop by and see Hermione before I go out again. Do you want me to stay here tonight?” Ginny simply shook her head. “You sure?” he asked. 

 

“Stay with your wife tonight, Ron. Mum’s coming to take Ethan to the Burrow for the weekend. She’ll have her grandchildren, so she thought it would be a nice break for me and Harry if she took Ethan as well.” Their eyes locked, and Ron knew that it would be anything but a break for his sister, but he also knew not to push it. Having Ethan around had kept Ginny from going around the bend completely, but it would be far too much trouble to explain to their mother why she didn’t want Ethan to go. Ron understood, so he simply nodded, kissed her forehead again, and with a promise to come back in the morning, he left. 

 

At the ministry, Ron softly opened the door to Hermione’s office, and found her frantically searching for something on her messy desk. He smiled, briefly. Her hair was wild, and he could see a slight tremble to her hands. That’s when he realized she was seriously looking for something, and perhaps he should help her.

 

“Hey, love bug,” Ron said smoothly, and she yelped loudly. He chuckled, and closed the door behind him. She gaped at him, and he could practically see her heart thumping in her chest. 

 

“You startled me!”

 

“Sorry,” he whispered with a sheepish smile. “What are you looking for?”

 

“Um…some work stuff…” she scratched her head, distractedly. “…you really startled me!” she said again, with a quiver in her voice. 

 

“Sorry!” Ron smirked, and came around the desk, then pulled her in his arms. “Do you want me to help you find whatever it is that’s got you so frazzled?” he murmured in her ear, and didn’t miss the shiver that went down her spine. 

 

“N—no, that’s all right. I’ll look for it in the morning.” She pulled back from him. 

 

“You sure? It seems important.”

 

“Well it is, actually, but it will have to wait…until…I can look with a clear mind. I’m beat. What are you doing here? Did I forget something?” she asked, and Ron nuzzled her neck.

 

“No, love, I just came by to see you home.” His hands ran along her sides in a hypnotic movement, and then her eyes slipped closed for a half of a second. Slowly they opened again, and Ron could see an uneasiness fill her eyes. 

 

“You want to keep looking don’t you?” he asked. She smiled a bit, and then nodded. 

 

“It’s fine,” he smiled, “I won’t be too late tonight. You had better beat me home though.” He gave her a lovingly stern look, and she smiled wider, with another nod. Ron stooped a bit and kissed her cheek. “See you in a bit, love.”

 

He made to step away, but she tightened her grip on his hand. “Give me a kiss before you go.” Ron turned instantly, and gathered her into his arms to press his mouth to her soft waiting lips. He swished his tongue in her mouth once, then twice, and then pulled away.

 

“You all right, love?” he asked. She stared up at him with big eyes, and she seemed so tired, and eager, and frightened all at the same time. This whole situation had been weighing on them all in different ways. Before Ron could ask anything more, she was pressing her lips to his again as she sat up on the desk, and pulled him down on top of her. 

 

“Whoa, love,” Ron chuckled, and made to sit up, but she gripped his robes. 

 

“Please Ron, I need you.” The look in her eyes was so intense and troubled that it scared him for a moment. Honestly, he couldn’t blame her. It had been three weeks since they had made love, and he’d often found himself about to shatter in a thousand pieces with the need to be inside his wife, so Ron let his body settle on top of her. 

 

“Let’s go home, love,” he whispered. “I don’t have to go back out tonight. I’m nearly insane with fatigue as it is,” Ron said, but she was already rolling her hips under him, and kissing his jaw. 

 

“Please, Ron,” her desperation was apparent, and as he was never able to deny her, he nodded then moved down her body, opening her robes completely. He let his hand slide under her skirt, and immediately made contact with her soaked knickers. His fingers nimbly pushed them aside and he sunk them deep within her. She moaned huskily, and her hips began to grind against him vigorously. 

 

Ron pushed her skirt all the way up, and tugged her knickers completely to the side, then let his tongue replace his fingers. He sucked her folds into his mouth greedily, and she squealed with a shiver, but Ron stopped suddenly. She looked down at him confused. 

 

“What’s wrong? You…you still want to go home?” she asked, hesitantly.

 

Ron licked his lips, and then nodded uncertainly, feeling a bit queasy suddenly. Something about making love to your wife for the first time in weeks on a cluttered desk just wasn’t doing it for him. How else could he explain his semi erect cock? Although most people didn’t know it or believe it, Ron was a romantic, and this just felt wrong. He sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. She too sat up, but pushed him back a step and quickly kneeled before him. 

 

“What are you doing?” Ron asked, with a nervous smile.

 

“Just giving you something to hold you over until I get home,” she whispered, and looked up at him with a wicked grin, as her hands worked feverishly to undo his belt and trousers. As she pulled out his barely stiff cock, she gazed up at him with such longing in her eyes that it was slightly disarming. 

 

Then her mouth was on his tip and she slowly rolled her tongue around it. Ron felt his cock twitch, but maintain the same slightly limp state. He wanted to go home, he wanted to ravish his wife on their bed, but he could give her this if it would sate her for the time being. So he let his eyes slip closed and tried to concentrate on her actions. As she sucked his cock deeper into her mouth with a moan that sounded as though she’d just tasted the most delicious thing in her life, her teeth scrapped against his shaft. 

 

“ _Ssss_!” he hissed, “Careful love.” Ron threaded his left hand in her hair as she grunted her apology. His eyes closed again. She swirled her tongue around his head, and then gobbled up his cock once more. Her teeth grazed him sharper this time. Fuck! He shouted to himself, as his hips jerked back of their own volition. Suddenly, Ron had a terrifying revelation, and his eyes flew open.

 

“Hermione!” he shouted, and he wasn’t speaking to the one on her knees before him, but the one who had just walked into the office.

 

 

 

 

AN: This was an evil cliffie...sorry. If it's any consolation, I don't think chapter 8 will be long...help any? No? Okay, sorry. *looks down with and adorable pouty lip* Still not working...that's all I got. 


	8. Chapter 8 - Missing Pieces

  
Author's notes:

Okay all, there is a section in this chapter that may not make sense if you have not read Four Days of Fantasies. It's not much, but it will be more clear what Hermione is referring to if you've read that. Do you need to drop everything and read it now? No, but if you want to...I won't be mad-LOL. Hope you enjoy!

Karen

* * *

BONDED

 

Chapter 8 ~ Missing Pieces

  

Ginny sat alone on the edge of her bed. If anyone saw her, they’d surely think she had finally gone around the bend, but she couldn’t help it. With her face mashed into Harry’s pillow, she could just make out his scent. It was ridiculous, she knew. He had been gone for weeks. Angry with herself for not having thought to place a preserving spell over it when his smell was a lot stronger, Ginny practically suffocated herself with the force of her inhale. 

 

Now, because she’d held it, smelt it, and slept with it every night, it carried more of her scent than Harry’s. Suddenly she threw the pillow down in frustration. _How dare he leave me!_ _He knows I need him!_ Ginny shouted in her head as she began to pace the room, with tears suddenly welling in her eyes. The fury built steadily in her, until she wanted to punch something, throw something, or break something. As she rounded the foot of the bed, Ginny reared back and kicked Harry’s heavy oak chest. She was instantly sorry that she did. 

 

“FUCK!” she screamed, as the pain shot through her foot and up her leg, causing her to drop to the floor, holding her foot tenderly. “Stupid bloody trunk!” she shouted at it, as though it wasn’t an inanimate object, then she flipped open the latch. 

 

“I should toss out all of this shite!” Ginny screeched, as she began pulling out Harry’s belongings and tossing them about the room. His Quidditch uniform landed in a messy heap, but not before Ginny unconsciously brought it past her nose. By the time she got down to things that could actually break if she threw them against the wall, Ginny had calmed a bit. She sniffed back tears as she picked up a box which she knew contained the Snitch from the last game Harry ever played at Hogwarts. 

 

Moving that aside, Ginny picked up a box she’d only seen a few times. It held all the important papers Harry needed to keep safe. She opened it, and wasn’t surprised to see the deed to Grimmauld Place, as well as the statement of finances Harry had inherited from Sirius. 

 

Tucked under the papers was a photograph of her sleeping. It had to have been while they were still at Hogwarts because she looked younger, not by much, but there was a noticeable difference. Also, she recognized the room they were in as the Room of Requirement. It wasn’t often that they’d go there to be alone. With Harry leaving school for weeks at a time to search for Horcruxes, he was gone more than he was there, so they had to make the most of the time they had. 

 

The photo was crumpled terribly, and Ginny gathered that Harry must’ve carried it with him when he was out hunting. She watched herself sleeping so peacefully in that photo, and wondered how she could have found a place so safe when things were very uncertain. 

 

Suddenly, a hand came into frame, and Ginny knew instantly that it was Harry’s. It brushed a loc of hair away from her face, and then ran a loving finger down her cheekbone to brush against her lips. The photo Ginny smiled, and sighed in her sleep. This caused the real Ginny to give a watery smile, and sigh all the same. She realized why the photo Ginny managed to look so content even in a time of war and uncertainty. It was because, as long as she had Harry, she felt as though they could get through anything. Merlin, she needed him! 

 

Ginny waited until Harry’s hand appeared in the photo again, before bringing it to her lips to kiss it tenderly. Now that her mood had mellowed considerably, she felt the need to look at everything in the chest. Moving more legal documents out of the way, Ginny came across another picture. At first glance she thought it was a muggle photo because it didn’t seem to be moving. However, as she brought it closer to her face, she saw the leaves on the trees rustle a bit. The picture was of a log cabin, deep in a thick patch of forest. 

 

She had never seen this place before, and wondered why Harry had it. There were no people in it, just a cabin and trees. Ginny stared at the photo for a long while, wondering if someone would appear as Harry’s hand had in the other photo. Nothing happened, so she turned it over, and found a note. 

  _Harry,_ _This is Harpers Ferry, one of the better places I hid when I was on the run. Sometimes the silence was deafening, but overall, far more hospitable than my wretched mother’s house. Should you ever need a moment away from it all, you may find it a good place for escape._ _Sirius_

Ginny’s hand began to tremble as she read, and reread the little note from Harry’s God-father. She stood quickly, wincing slightly under the pain in her foot, and then looked around for something to do. She had found Harry! She knew it in her very soul. No one knew of this place, hell she didn’t even know about it. _Ron_! Ginny screamed in her head. _I’ve got to tell Ron!_

 

Quickly, she thought against that. One thing she was certain of, she’d be the only one capable of getting her husband back. Only now was she happy that her mum had insisted on keeping Ethan for the weekend. 

 

A surge of adrenaline had her sprinting to the wardrobe. There, she pulled out a large leather satchel, and began stuffing it with warm clothes for Harry. Once she had a satisfactory amount of articles inside, she rushed to the door, but stopped suddenly. Harry’s wand lay on the night-table, where he always kept it. The Chief had released it to her, after it had been tested and shown that the last spell it cast was, _Nox._ Apparently to put out the light before going to bed, Ginny assumed. It was simply further affirmation, that she really didn’t need, that Harry was innocent. 

 

“ _Accio_ ,” Ginny muttered, and the wand flew into her hand. She stuffed it into the satchel, and quickly made her way to the bathroom to gather some toiletries and linen. Rushing downstairs to the kitchen, Ginny dropped the satchel on the floor, went to the pantry and retrieved a basket. Her hands shook as she rushed from the pantry, and carelessly tossed the basket on the counter. 

 

With a flick of her wand, food began to fly from every place in the kitchen. Carrots, potatoes, onions, and celery began to chop themselves expertly, and then flew into a round container inside the basket. Ginny flicked her wand again, and a large chunk of ham flew out of the cold pantry, diced itself, and then settled inside the container as well. Three fat links of bangers flew out of the cold pantry as well, and landed safely in the basket. She picked up a small loaf of bread, and tossed that in too.

 

Once the basket was filled with the bread, juice, a fry pan, a few dishes, and a small cauldron, Ginny sealed it tightly, and then made to set off on her mission. Stopping suddenly, she realized that she had to tell Ron where she was going. 

 

“Accio photo!” she shouted, and a second later, the picture was floating toward her. Ginny raced to a drawer in the study and grabbed parchment, a quill and ink. The quiver of her hands made it difficult to write as quickly as she wanted. After rolling the photo inside the letter, she had a frightening thought as she rushed back to the kitchen. Ginny hadn’t seen Hedwig all day! The owl had become quite depressed since Harry’s absence, but her heart almost leaped through her chest when she saw Hedwig sitting on her perch in the kitchen. 

 

“Hedwig!” Ginny rushed over to the rather bored looking owl. “I’ve found him! I’m going to get him!” Hedwig gave a hoot, and seemed to look interested now. 

 

“Listen, Hedwig. You must do exactly as I say. If I’m not back in three hours, deliver this to my brother, Ron. Three hours exactly, Hedwig!” Ginny held the letter before Hedwig’s beak as if to make sure the bird saw it and understood the importance of it. Hedwig gave a mighty hoot, and gently nipped at Ginny’s finger. Quelling her trembling hands enough to function, she quickly tied the letter to Hedwig’s leg, and gave her feathers a soft pat. “Three hours,” Ginny said again softly, knowing that she would need that time to talk Harry into coming back with her.

 

With a quick tap of her wand, the basket and satchel shrunk, and Ginny placed them in her pocket. She made her way to the fireplace, but thought against it. There was a slim chance that Harry wasn’t at this cabin, and Ginny didn’t fancy getting hexed for Flooing in on some unsuspecting bloke. With that thought, she threw her cloak on and ran full speed to the gate. Just as she Apparated, Ginny felt something cool and bony grip her arm, but it was too late, she had already vanished. 

 

  

*****

 

Ron quickly stumbled backward, as all the air seemed to flee from his lungs. The Hermione on her knees before him whipped her head around when she realized that Ron was staring at something over her shoulder. In an instant, she was on her feet, and both Hermiones had their wands drawn with deadly aim. The one by the door gave it a quick kick, and it closed with a snap. The one behind the desk moved around it, and the two began to circle each other as Ron fixed his trousers with trembling hands.

 

“Stop moving!” he shouted, pulling his wand as well, and they both halted instantly. But it was too late, the women had circled each other two or three times by now, and he had no idea which was which. He was certain that the one he had been with was the imposter, and it took mere seconds for Ron to run his eyes over each of them. 

 

Same face, same flushed cheeks, same silver charm bracelet hanging from the same wrist, same ruby wedding ring, same black skirt, and the same mint green jumper. Well actually, there were subtle differences there. Like one had a lace trim around her scoop neckline, but Ron had not been paying that close attention to the jumper of the one he had been with.  He maintained his position behind the desk as the two women stood in front of it, one to his left, and the other to his right. They both still looked fit to kill, with their wands held fiercely. 

 

“Which one of you was in here with me?” Ron barked.

 

“It wasn’t me!” They both said in unison. 

 

“LIAR!” again, they screamed together. 

 

This imposter was good. 

 

“Start talking!” Ron shouted, knowing that the real Hermione would know what he wanted. 

 

The one on his right spoke first. “Your middle name is Bilius—”

 

“Everyone knows that!” he wailed. Fuck it all if this wasn’t his living, breathing nightmare. His wand was now aimed on the Hermione to his right. 

 

“You are going to have to do a lot better than that if you don’t want me to blast you into a million pieces!” he growled. 

 

If he couldn’t get a satisfactory answer he was going to bind them both and wait for the potion to wear off. _Right-side_ Hermione’s hand trembled a bit, but she took a breath, and rolled her eyes ever so slightly. To Ron, it looked like something Hermione would do, and he unconsciously began moving his wand toward the Hermione on his left.

 

“Your mother’s maiden name is Prewett…your pet name for me is love bug—”

 

“ _Better_ …” he growled, “…you’ve got to do better than that!” Ron was on the verge of insanity. 

 

“About three weeks ago, you found Harry Potter with a dead body!” she rambled off quickly, as if her life depended on it, and it very well may have. Ron wanted to sigh with relief. Only _his_ Hermione would know that…unless…unless _this_ Hermione was the one who had actually killed Caroline. FUCK! Ron swallowed thickly, and stared pointedly at the Hermione on his right, trying to see something that would absolutely confirm or deny her identity. 

 

Her eyes were wide, as she looked between Ron and the _left-side_ Hermione. Ron was breathing so hard it was making him lightheaded. But in a flash his wand was aimed on the Hermione to his left. Her jaw was clinched tight, and her hand was trembling terribly. Ron was going through a short list of hexes he wanted to have ready just in case he was going to have to duel with this person. 

 

“You’ve got one chance to tell me something to keep me from hexing you…” he glared at her.

 

Her eyes flitted to Ron briefly, but she held the gaze of the Hermione on his right, then with a quiver to her voice, _left-side_ Hermione said, “The last time you questioned my identity…I was pleasuring myself in front of you.” The last words were barely out of her mouth when Ron swung his arm around and hit the Hermione on his _right_ with a hex so hard, she flew into the wall, and was knocked out cold.  

 

“FUCK!” Ron screamed, and crouched down, not sure if he was going to puke or pass out! Hermione slumped into a chair, and she looked positively green. A moment later, he stood and went to her. 

 

“I’m so sorry!” he breathed, and made to grab her hand, but she moved it away quickly. 

 

“Don’t,” she whispered, and Ron could hear the tears in her voice even though her face held a defiant expression. He swallowed, and it felt like broken glass had been trapped in his throat. She wouldn’t look at him, or couldn’t, he was unable to tell which. So he reluctantly stepped away from her, and aimed his wand at the imposter. Ropes shot out of the end, and bound her legs and wrists. Ron levitated her, and began to walk toward the door.

 

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked, sharply.

 

“I’m…I’ve got to take her or him, whoever this is down to an interrogation room,” Ron looked at Hermione cautiously.  

 

“Ron, you can’t walk out here with _me_ bound like that! Do you know how many questions that will raise?” she breathed, and really looked on the verge of being sick. Ron wondered if he should fetch her rubbish basket. 

 

He nodded. “You’re right. We’ll…we’ll just have to wait for the Polyjuice to wear off.” Hermione sank back into the chair, very unlady-like, and buried her face in her hands. Ron removed the levitation charm, and let the imposter fall hard to the floor. He stood weakly for a moment, and then hesitantly stepped closer to his wife. 

 

“I’m so sor—”

 

“Don’t Ron, please, not now,” Hermione whispered, as she kept her face hidden. Ron nodded sullenly. It was silent for an ungodly amount of time, and Ron was nearly going insane trying to keep his mind from thinking about what he had almost done with a woman that was not his wife. The fact that it may not even be a woman didn’t slip passed him either. One crisis at a time, he sighed to himself. 

 

Ten minutes ticked by like ten hours. Never before had the couple been this silent with each other. Known for having massive rows, their problems were always hashed out verbally, so Ron was beyond frightened at what this could mean for their marriage. Suddenly, Hermione spoke, and although it was a whisper, it seemed to pierce Ron’s ears. 

 

“What were you doing here?” she asked, and it wasn’t accusatory, simply fact finding.

 

“I…” Ron cleared his throat, “…I came to see you home safely,” he swallowed. Hermione made an indeterminable sound in her throat. 

 

“She…he…whatever it is…” Ron sighed with disgust, “…was looking for something…” Hermione looked up suddenly. 

 

“What?” she asked.

 

“When I came in, _she_ was looking frantically for something. Said it was just work, but we can see now that, that was a lie. Do you know what _she_ may have wanted?” Hermione stood quickly, and rushed over to her desk. She gave it a series of complicated taps with her wand, and a small panel slid open. She sighed with relief and reached inside, pulling out a round bottle that looked to be filled with black ashes. 

 

“It’s the final ingredient to the potion for Harry.” She held it for a moment with weak trembling hands, before sitting it on her desk, and placing an Imperturbable charm on it. She then mumbled a few other things over it that Ron knew would curse a person severely should they try to take it. Once it was safely in her pocket, she moved back to her seat.

 

There was a slight grunt, and the couple jolted, aiming their wands instantly. The Polyjuiced Hermione, still unconscious, gave a twitch as her skin began to bubble. The creamy leg sticking out from under her black skirt began to grow in length. The creaminess gave way to smooth honey brown skin as the rest of her body, shuttered and transformed completely, leaving Ron speechless. 

 

“Sophie Teagarden…” Hermione mumbled, and looked for the first time to really be on the verge of tears. 

 

“The…the…American liaison?” Ron asked, not really needing an answer. What the hell did she have to do with all this? He gritted his teeth, and aimed his wand at her chest. 

 

“Ennervate!” Ron shouted, and the captive’s body gave a lurch. She moaned, and made to move her arms, but soon realized that she was bound. Her eyes flew open wide as she looked up at her captors with fear. 

 

“Are you really Sophie Teagarden?” Ron barked, going into full Auror mode. She looked up at him with weepy eyes, and her lips quivered as if she wanted to speak, but then she simply burst into tears. 

 

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered, with a roll of his eyes, then flicked his wand, and the sobbing woman was pulled to her feet. 

 

“We’re going down to the Magical Law Enforcement Department. You are not to speak or make eye contact with anyone we may encounter. Do you understand?” She nodded meekly, and then fixed watery eyes on Hermione. 

 

“I’m…I’m…” she sputtered and then seemed to think better of speaking to her, maybe because Hermione was giving her a look so icy, Ron thought a hex would shoot from her eyes at any second. 

 

He gave his wand a casual wave and Sophie Teagarden’s body went rigid, then she rose off the floor two inches. He guided her with his wand through Hermione’s office door, but before he left, he looked back and asked, “Are you going home now?” Hermione nodded, still looking as though she’d suddenly been Petrified. 

 

“Please hurry, all right, and go straight there.” She nodded again. Ron wanted to say more. He wanted to apologize again, on his knees, begging, pleading, groveling, but he simply said, “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

  

*****

 

As Ron and his prisoner rounded the corridor to the M.L.E.D, he groaned as Douglas appeared in the detainee area, which was where he was headed. Thinking quickly, Ron tapped Sophia on the back of her head with his wand, rendering her mute. She hadn’t said a word the entire journey, but it would be just his luck if she came down with a sudden case of _true confessions_ right in Douglas’ face. 

 

“Where are you headed?” Douglas barked, eyeing the attractive woman in Ron’s custody lecherously. 

 

“I’m going dancing, obviously,” Ron bit out sarcastically, as he maneuvered Miss Teagarden around the portly Auror, and walked further down the corridor. He prayed Douglas would just move on and take his arse home, but things were just not going in Ron’s favor at all tonight. 

 

“Oi! You smug bastard…” Douglas had chased behind Ron, and grabbed his arm. “You mind your cheeky attitude or I’ll make you mind it!”

 

Ron roughly snatched his arm away. “Unless you want another foot in your chest, I suggest you leave me to my prisoner,” he turned back to the bound woman, gave her shoulder a gentle push, and she began to float down the corridor once more. He could almost hear Douglas’ feeble brain scrabbling for another comeback. 

 

When Ron was a few yards away, Douglas finally said, “You’re no better than Potter, probably off to shag that bird. Prisoner my arse!” Ron snickered at the pathetic retort, but then it quickly died as the memory of how close he had actually come to shagging her played back vividly in his mind. Douglas began again, not seeming to know when to just let it go. “Guess that means, your wife will be _all alone_ , just like Potter’s, maybe I ought—”

 

Whatever Douglas thought he _ought_ to do, it was never heard, for by the time he got the word, _wife_ , out of his mouth, Ron had tore back down the corridor, and was on Douglas before the man’s brain could even catch onto what his eyes were seeing. 

 

Ron slammed him hard against the wall, and pressed his forearm across Douglas’ thick neck. The fury was wild and running rampant through Ron at the moment, and there was nothing to be done about it. There would be no empty threats, no harsh promises, just this. Two men staring at each other as one tried with all his might to permanently silence the other. The thought of someone even looking at Hermione made Ron nearly insane, so the idea that this filthy maggot would go to her and…well…Ron wanted to…to… His body shuttered and pulled away suddenly, leaving Douglas gasping and holding his throat. 

 

“You ever speak of my wife _or_ my sister again, and it will be the last thing you do,” Ron panted, as he tried to calm himself, taking a step back. 

 

“I’ll…I’ll have your job for this…for certain!” Douglas wheezed, but he threw his threat as he was backing out of the corridor, with fear behind his eyes. “You’ll be sacked for sure this time!” and then he turned and escaped in a hurry. Ron breathed deeply, _so be it,_ he thought and turned back to his prisoner.  Sophie Teagarden was looking at Ron with a mixture of heart gripping fear, and just a touch of longing. This only spurred on his anger. 

 

As they made their way to one of the interrogation rooms, Ron stopped at the small check-in desk, manned only by a quill and ledger. He tapped the ledger with his wand and it sprang to life, flipping open to the first empty page. 

 

“Ronald B. Weasley, I.D. number 332089, here to interrogate prisoner…” he gave the woman a nudge, “… state your full name.” 

 

Her chin quivered as she leaned forward a bit to speak directly over the ledger. “Sophie O’Donna Teagarden,” she sniffed. Straight away, it scribbled down the information and then a voice boomed out of the ledger. 

 

“ _Interrogation room two, available_ ,” and a door swung open behind Ron. Quickly he moved them inside, and sealed the door shut. With a flick of his wand, Sophie was forced to sit on one side of a long rectangular table, while Ron walked to the other side. Again he flicked his wand, and the binds came undone. 

 

She quickly began to massage her wrist. Ron tapped a panel on the wall behind him, and a small cupboard door appeared. There, he retrieved a dark colored phial, and uncorked it with haste. He’d wasted too much time already, losing his temper with Douglas. For all he knew, the man was bringing reinforcements this very moment. 

 

With another flick of his wand, Sophie’s head snapped back and her mouth opened. Ron walked around to her side of the table, and placed three drops of odorless, flavorless, clear liquid down her throat. Her mouth closed, and her head drooped after Ron gave a final wave of his wand. 

 

She wore a dazed look about her now, and Ron watched her carefully from the other side of the table. This went on for a few minutes until he was satisfied that the Veritaserum had taken effect. As it was, he had no time to wait any longer. He tapped the wall in a different spot, and another ledger and quill shot out, prepared to record everything that was said in the room.  

 

“Is your name really Sophie Teagarden?” Ron barked. 

 

“Yes,” she whispered staring at a stain on the table. 

 

“Are you really the American Liaison for Magical Cooperation?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why were you Polyjuiced as Hermione Weasley?”

 

Teagarden swallowed, as a silent tear slid down her cheek. “I needed to know if she was working on something to help Potter.” Ron’s heart began to race. 

 

“Why, what do you have to do with Harry Potter?” She opened her mouth a few times and seemed to be struggling to find the right words. Ron realized that the question was a bit too broad. 

 

“Did you poison Harry Potter?” the few seconds it took for her to answer nearly caused Ron to pass out with anxiety. 

 

“Yes…” Just as Ron was about to suck in a massive breath, she spoke again, “… _once_.” Ron placed both hands on the table and leaned in. 

 

“What do you mean, _once_? When?”

 

“I poisoned his soup,” she said, hazily. 

 

“ _Why_?” Ron nearly screeched. 

 

“Because it’s what she wanted.” Another tear fell from her eye.

 

“It’s what who wanted?” he was leaning so far over the desk now that the rim of the table was digging into his thighs, but he scarcely noticed.

 

“Bella…” she murmured. 

 

Icy fear jolted though Ron’s nervous system, and he was sure he was about to suffer a complete mental break down. There was only one Bella that he knew, and she had not been seen or heard from since the final battle. It was rumored that she was dead and that’s just where Ron wanted her. He willed his internal organs to cooperate with him, and managed to form the words, “Bella who?”

 

“Isabella…Isabella Lestrange.” Sophie’s mouth hung open slack, and so did Ron’s. _Isabella? Isabella? Who the hell is Isabella? Is Bellatrix going by a new name?_ He thought frantically. Ron quickly returned his focus to Sophie. 

 

“Who is Isabella Lestrange…is she related to Bellatrix?” He gripped the table in eager anticipation of the answer. 

 

“Yes…she’s Bellatrix’s daughter.”

  

*****

  

The moment she landed at her destination, Ginny whirled around, wand out and ready to do damage, but there was no one there and nothing on her arm. She was certain she had felt someone’s cool bony grip on her arm, but perhaps she was imagining it. How could they have disappeared so quickly? Even with an invisibility cloak, the hand would be visible if they stuck it outside the garment. All the same, Ginny lit the tip of her wand, and peered around her several times. No one. 

 

Then she saw it, not twenty yards away, the same cabin from the photo, and she soon forgot about funny feelings on her arm. There was a tiny glow from a fire showing though one of the windows, and Ginny’s heart swelled. The leaves crunched loudly at the first step she took, so she placed a silencing charm on her shoes and moved swiftly. 

 

Her hands trembled as she reached the window. The view was obscured by the vast amount of dirt on the pane, but Ginny could distinctly see someone kneeling before the hearth of a dying fire. It was clear from the build that it was a man, but he had a large hooded jumper on and it was pulled completely over his head. Ginny didn’t want to just burst in one some strange man, he could be dangerous, but it was getting colder by the second. Fortunately, a moment later, the man stuck his hands out in front of him, as if to warm them by the miniscule fire, and that’s when she saw it. Harry’s wedding band!

 

Ginny moved quickly to the front door and waved her wand. The lock clicked and she was inside the cabin, almost instantly. Harry whirled around with a fire poker in his hand, and Ginny splayed herself flat against the door.

 

“Harry! It’s me!” she panted, and the poker instantly fell to the floor with a resounding clank. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, while Ginny willed herself not to cry. She had never seen her husband look so emaciated. She was certain that he had lost a stone at least, and though Harry had become quite fit, really didn’t have it to spare. His face was haunted with dark circles under his eyes and his lips were pale. His posture screamed of fatigue, and what she could see of his hair, it was longer and matted with dirt. He had even grown a scruffy beard, and it made him look older and rather scary.

 

Ginny shivered with a combination of the sudden fear that ran through her, and the fact that there was hardly any difference in the temperature inside the cabin and the blustery weather outside. A loud gurgle resounded in the room, and Ginny knew it was Harry’s stomach. He looked almost ashamed that he was surely half starved, and seemed to want to cover it, so he spoke. 

 

“Wha—what are you doing here? How did you find me?” he rasped, with a quiver. 

 

Ginny swallowed. “I’m here to bring you home…I found Sirius’ photograph,” she whispered softly, and prepared herself for the inevitable denial. 

 

Harry shook his head. “Gin,” he moaned, “I can’t…I’ve done…ter—terrible things. The only reason I haven’t turned myself in is because I don’t want Ron to be punished as well, but as soon as I can figure out a way to turn myself in without hurting Ron, I will.”

 

“Harry,” Ginny took a step away from the door, causing her husband to instantly step back, keeping the distance between them just as it was. “You didn’t ki—do anything to Caroline.” Harry shook his head. 

 

“It’s true Harry, the last spell your wand performed was Nox, and Ron said you didn’t vomit, so…so someone else did it, not you!” Ginny rambled so fast it nearly came out as one word. Harry looked dazed, but she could tell that he was trying to process it all. Just when he seemed to have a look of relief on his face, his eyes were haunted again. 

 

“It’s still dangerous. Until I find out who did this to me…to Caroline, I can’t come back,” he looked down sadly. Ginny, however, was now in a right state of anger. 

 

“And just how do you plan to do that? Sitting here, starving and freezing to death! What have you done so far to find the person?” Ginny shouted, as she took another step forward. Harry seemed too shocked to notice that she was closer. 

 

“I’ll tell you what you’ve done…nothing! Ron’s been wearing himself thin looking for you! Hermione has been working around the clock creating a potion to help you! And I’ve…I’ve… had to pretend that all is well, and that I still go to bed every night with my husband when I don’t!” She’d taken three more steps by now, and was nearly face to face with him. 

 

“Why are you yelling at—”

 

“Because you’re stupid! You’re a stupid, stupid man, Harry Potter! And…and you left me!” She sniffed angrily as a hot tear slid from her eye. “And it’s bloody cold in here!” Her wand was out instantly, and aimed at the glowing embers. A second later it roared to life, causing Harry to shudder, and instantly turn toward it. He looked as though he wanted desperately to tip head first into it, as he sank to his knees, his pale hands stretching forward. It broke Ginny’s heart. The depths to which Harry would go to keep them safe was sometimes astounding. Ginny waved her wand again, and the wind that whistled through the rickety weather beaten walls stopped. 

 

“What did you do?” Harry asked, but kept his hands practically on the fire.

 

“I insulated the walls,” she said, as she pulled him back by the hood. “You’re too close.” He rubbed his hands together, and then pulled his baggy sleeves over them.  

 

“Where did you get that jumper…and the trousers?” Ginny asked, as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the shrunken leather satchel. Giving it a tap with her wand, it was restored to its normal size.  

 

“Nicked it,” Harry mumbled, looking slightly ashamed. 

 

“Here,” she opened the satchel, “I’ve brought you some warm clothes.” She reached out a trembling hand to touch him, and Harry recoiled. 

 

“Don’t,” he said, scooting away from her a bit. “It’ll just make it harder when you leave.”

 

“No, it won’t, because I’m not leaving without you!”

 

“Gin,” Harry whinged, but was still unable to meet her eyes. Ginny came to a decision, she was going to have to take control of the situation if she was going to get him home. Initially, she was going to give Harry back his wand, and let him clean himself up, but now she thought better of it. Without his wand, if she must, she would bind him and drag him home, screaming if necessary. 

 

Ginny went into her pocket once more, and pulled out the shrunken basket. After restoring it, she let it sit for a moment, but she didn’t miss the fact that Harry was intently staring at it. Taking advantage of his distraction, Ginny touched Harry’s sleeve and was surprised to find it damp. 

 

“Harry, you’re wet!” He jumped, slightly.

 

“Well…I went down to the lake and…and tried to get some water…but the ice was a bit thin in a spot and…I sort of fell though,” he finished with a rather raspy cough. Ginny stared at him for a long time, wondering how he hadn’t already caught his death in this weather. Looking around, she noticed a dirty bowl with some berries and what looked like small bones. She didn’t know what they belonged to, a squirrel, maybe a rabbit, but she’d never ask. Unconsciously, her hand rose to stroke his hair, and was a little more than hurt when he shrugged her off of him. 

 

“Fine!” she stood, and aimed her wand at him, ready to bind him, take him home, and give him a bath, for he smelt rather awful. In that moment, Harry looked up at her with big sad eyes and she knew that if she forced him home, he’d only leave again, and perhaps then she’d never find him. After all, nothing was stopping him from Apparating. So she realized that it was imperative that he go back with her of his own volition, and that, Ginny knew, was going to take some finesse. 

 

Slowly she fixed her aim on the basket giving her wand a flick, the basket flew open and the cauldron hung itself over the center of the fire. Using a jabbing motion, Ginny sent the carrots, onions, potatoes, celery, and ham dancing into the cauldron. Next the fry pan flew out, and levitated beside the cauldron. The fat links leaped out of the basket, and landed in the pan. Ginny stepped close to the fireplace and stuck her wand in the cauldron. Waving it in a circular motion, a creamy broth began to pore out of the tip. When it had reached the desired amount, Ginny tapped her wand on the edge of the cauldron three times, and the flow of broth ceased. 

 

Already the cabin was beginning to fill with a delicious aroma that seemed to be causing Harry’s stomach to groan constantly. He looked almost on the verge of tears as he sat watching the bangers sizzle in the fry pan. Ginny waved her wand over the loaf of bread, and it was now piping hot as if fresh from the oven. That pulled Harry’s attention away from the contents of the fry pan. 

 

She sliced him off a hearty piece with her wand, and then handed it to him. Harry raised an eager hand to take it, but then seemed to realize that his hand was filthy. He wiped it along his jumper, not doing much good, and then quickly snatched it from her. Ginny watched, transfixed as Harry tore into the bread like a wild animal. It was gone in merely two bites. He sat trembling with his eyes closed as he chewed and swallowed the big wad with difficulty. Ginny took this opportunity to quickly point her wand at his face, and deftly removed his scraggly beard. Harry’s eyes snapped open as he felt the magic swirl around him. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I just wanted to see you.” Harry met her eyes for a fleeting moment, before looking down sadly. 

 

Ginny leaned closer. “I knew my beautiful husband was under there somewhere,” she said, and smiled delicately then ran a soft hand along his jaw. Harry flinched as if her touch actually pained him. _He’s not ready yet_ , Ginny thought, and tried not to be hurt by it. After all, it was classic Harry. 

 

She reached into the basket, and got a small plate, then stabbed all three of the juicy bangers with a fork, and dropped them on the dish. Harry looked at them longingly when she sat the plate on the hearth in front of him instead of handing it to him. 

 

“They are too hot now, let them cool.” Harry nodded, but his stomach seemed to protest greatly as it took that moment to give a loud gurgle. 

 

“Bugger,” Ginny moaned. Always falling victim to her need to care for Harry, she waved her wand again, effectively cooling the links to room temperature. Harry had one in his dirty hands in a matter of seconds. 

 

“Slow down, love, you’ll choke,” Ginny finally said, after Harry had eaten two of the three links without seeming to have chewed either. He nodded as he bit heartily into the last one. He was going to make himself sick if Ginny didn’t get him to pace himself. She gave a quick look at the stew and found it simmering nicely. 

 

Harry was finished all three bangers, and was now breathing deeply with his eyes closed, as if trying to hold onto the flavor of the food for as long as he could. Again, Ginny seized this opportunity, and touched his face again. He didn’t shrug her off this time, but when his eyes opened, they were still as distant as they had been. 

 

“Let me clean you up?” Ginny asked, although she wished she had simply demanded it. Even though Harry was not like Ron, and cowered under the bossy tone of his wife, Ginny could sometimes get him to yield to her will if she was stern enough. Harry fixed her with weary eyes.

 

“I’m not going back,” he stated, flatly. 

 

Ginny swallowed and nodded. “Fine,” she whispered, “that doesn’t mean you have to be filthy.” She smiled, and tried to refrain from leaning into him, for she wanted to kiss him so badly. With trembling hands, Ginny reached into the satchel and retrieved the toiletries she’d gathered for Harry. 

 

“Here, go get cleaned up while the stew is getting ready.” Harry took the toiletries and simply sat there. 

 

“There is no bathroom in here,” he said. 

 

“Oh, well that explains a lot,” Ginny said wryly, and Harry actually chuckled. She was so thrilled by the tiny gesture that she sprang to her feet and marched over to the other side of the room. There, she grabbed a dirty cup that sat on the window ledge, then placed it on the floor in the corner, and transfigured it into a large basin. Quickly, she swirled her wand in a clockwise motion and the basin filled with very warm soapy water. 

 

As she turned, the look in Harry’s eyes made her stop in her tracks. It was filled with such longing that Ginny could hardly breathe. Suddenly, she felt as though she was that awestruck little girl again, stumbling at a mere glance from Harry Potter. 

 

“Er…the…um…the bath is ready,” she stuttered. Harry stood awkwardly, and made his way to her. They were silent for a moment, as Harry pulled the hood off his head, then mumbled a _thank you_ , and moved around her. 

 

Ginny went back to the hearth, but before she sat on the moth eaten rug again, she transfigured it into a large fluffy mat. Harry had his back to her as she sat comfortably on the new soft covering. She watched silently as he pulled the baggy jumper over his shoulders. The shirt underneath was recognizable to her, as were the pyjama bottoms. Soon Harry stood completely starkers. He looked ghostly against the faint beams of moonlight that bled through the dirty windows. 

 

Definitely thinner than he was before he left, Harry was not as withered away as Ginny had thought. His muscles still held their tone, and had she not known what he looked like prior, Ginny would have still found his form quite satisfactory. Her eyes refused to move from him as he stepped into the basin and sat with his knees bent, for that was all he had room to do. 

 

Harry moaned softly at the feel of the warm water, and closed his eyes. For a long moment he simply sat there, and the cabin was utterly silent. Slowly he began to wash himself as if he realized that he needed to be doing something. When he got to his hair, Harry dunked his head under the water, which was a difficult move in the tight basin, then grabbed the bottle of shampoo Ginny brought for him. He began to lather his hair with some difficulty, and Ginny could see that his fingers were getting tangled. 

 

“Can…”she sat up on her knees a bit, “…can I help you?” Harry didn’t open his eyes, but simply gave a small nod. Ginny was on her feet instantly, as he untangled his fingers from his hair. She began to massage his scalp, and didn’t miss the sigh that escaped his lips. With her wand aimed over his head, Ginny poured out a stream of warm water, effectively rinsing all the suds from his hair. 

 

“Harry, I think…well your hair is awfully matted. I don’t know if I can untangle it. You really should have combed it before you washed it.” 

 

“Oh,” he whispered. “Well, can you cut it?” 

 

“Sure,” Ginny said, hesitantly. “It’ll be really short, though.”

 

“I don’t care. Shave it off, if you must.” Ginny nodded, then tilted Harry’s head to the side, and whispered a spell that made her wand vibrate slightly. She waved it from the back of Harry’s head to the front and a large chunk of hair fell to the floor, leaving only half of an inch of thick black hair in its wake. Ginny, did this again up the middle of his head, and once more on the other side until finally, all of Harry’s hair was only half an inch long. She rinsed it once more to get all the stray hairs out, and then stepped back to get a good look at her husband. 

 

“I like it. I think—” Ginny started, but in that moment, Harry stood in all his naked glory. God, she had seen him naked countless times by now, but it had been nearly a month since the last time. From the day they were married, Harry and Ginny hadn’t gone more than a day without making love. Three and a half weeks would surely be like becoming a virgin again.  

 

It was obvious that Harry was affected by her blatant appreciation of his nakedness, as he quickly wrapped himself in the large towel Ginny brought for him, efficiently covering his burgeoning erection from her view. He turned his back to her and quickly dried off. 

 

“Did…did you bring some water?” Harry asked, still facing the corner and tugging on his jeans. Ginny gave a slight jolt as his voice pulled her out of her brief fantasy of running her tongue down his back and over his delicious bum. 

 

“Wha…oh, I brought juice,” she rushed over to the basket. 

 

“No, I wanted to brush my teeth.”

 

“Oh!” Ginny dug through the satchel, and then moved back to him, quickly. “Here,” she handed over his wand, and Harry looked at it as if he didn’t quite know what to do with it. For the briefest of moments, he appeared strong, and whole, and happy to have his instrument for magic back in his hands again, but that soon gave way to fear. 

 

“Perhaps you should keep this for now. I don’t want to hurt you,” he turned the wand handle back to Ginny, and she hesitantly took it. That’s when she knew that he didn’t truly believe her when she’d said he hadn’t killed Caroline. Ginny knew it would be easier to simply take the wand then try and convince Harry that he was innocent without hard evidence. 

 

“Here,” Ginny began, and waved her wand, returning the basin back into a cup. She placed a strong cleaning spell on it and filled it with water. Leaving him in the corner to brush his teeth, Ginny returned to the stew, which was ready now, and ladled out a hearty serving. A moment later Harry was sitting beside her, greedily drinking down the bowl of stew. 

 

“Careful Harry, you don’t want to make yourself sick,” Ginny said, pulling the bowl away from him to get him to slow down. Harry took a few calming breaths, and began to sip from the bowl in a more civilized manner. 

 

“Wait until Ron finds out I’ve found you. He’ll probably want to kiss you on the mouth, and then immediately punch you in the mouth!” Ginny chuckled, as happiness began to wash over her, but it was short lived. 

 

“You can’t, Gin. Ron mustn’t know that I’m here, no one can,” Harry placed the empty bowl on the hearth. 

 

“I have to tell him! You don’t know how hard this has been on him! He hardly eats, or sleeps, and he can barely concentrate on anything but finding you!” Harry swallowed, and she could see the guilt all over his face. 

 

“Ron has been there for me, for all of us, Harry. He sleeps at the Cove more nights than he sleeps at his own place. He works a full day, and then spends practically all night searching for you. Maybe he gets three hours sleep, and that’s a fretful sleep I’m sure. Hermione has been staying with me as well. I don’t think the two of them have been in bed at the same time since you left. ”

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, looking down sadly. 

 

“I’m not telling you all this so you can feel guilty! I’m telling you this so you know how much we all love you. We’re stronger together, we don’t work well apart! You need us and we need you!” Ginny was shaking now as she tried in vain to convince him that his selflessness was doing more harm than good. 

 

“I understand that, but all I know is, no one has died since I’ve been gone, have they?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “And that is enough to keep me here.” Harry finished softly, but defiantly nonetheless. 

 

“So you’ll stay here forever? You’ll never come back?” Ginny was shouting now, and Harry leaned back a bit under her glare. 

 

“I…I…” he stammered, causing Ginny to make a frustrated noise deep in her throat, and thump him hard on the shoulder. 

 

“You make me want to kick your arse sometimes! I get so…so… _ARGH_!” she screeched, not really finding an adequate word to describe what she was feeling. She never got the chance to come up with one. In the next instant, Harry had pitched forward, and smashed his mouth to hers. Ginny was so shocked that it nearly took her a full minute to cotton on. By then, Harry was pushing his warm tongue into her mouth. 

 

The kiss was almost violent as teeth clanked, tongues battled and lips bruised. Ginny was the first to pull away, only because she couldn’t breathe. Harry’s eyes burned into her with a need she hadn’t seen since they were teenagers. Her hand trembled as she held it to her swollen lips, and then they were on each other again. This time it was tender, but the intensity had not decreased one bit. 

 

Harry tipped his weight forward, forcing Ginny to lie back on the furry mat. His lips found her throat as he ran his tongue down and over her collarbone. Ginny moaned, bringing her hands over his newly buzzed hair, and down his bare back. Before she even realized it, her jumper was off and in a heap beside them. 

 

Harry’s hot mouth was leaving strawberry red marks everywhere it met her pale skin. He seemed starved with need, and Ginny recognized it, as it was the same need coursing through her as well. His mouth covered the thin material of her pink lace bra, and Ginny moaned loudly. Harry reached behind her in an attempt to unhook it, and Ginny never got the chance to tell him that the hook was in the front because he impatiently ripped it from her body. 

 

She yelped, but was already moaning again as Harry grunted an apology with his mouth full of her breast. Carelessly, he tossed his glasses to the side, and they skidded to a halt on the hearth. Nearly worked into a frenzy by Harry’s mouth and hands, Ginny was more than a little shocked that Harry was rapidly slowing his ministrations, until he had completely stopped. 

 

“Wha—what is it?” Ginny panted, looked down at his head resting between her breasts.

 

“Nothing,” he replied breathlessly, and pulled himself up on his knees. He ran his hands over her breasts, reverently and said, “I just want to take my time.” Ginny smiled up at him. _God, he’s beautiful!_ She thought as her eyes slipped closed. 

 

Harry’s hands circled worshipfully across her torso, causing Ginny to sigh and moan with nearly every movement. He made his way down to the waistband of her jeans, and was gently tugging them off before Ginny realized that he had even opened them. They too, joined her jumper. 

 

“I love these,” Harry whispered, and she knew he was referring to her knickers. The pink lace garments were one of Harry’s favorites, and perhaps Ginny had worn them, unconsciously knowing that Harry would see them tonight. She quivered as his hand ghosted across them. 

 

He spread her legs wide as he moved closer to her. Still on his knees, Harry brought her right leg high up on his shoulder, giving her delicate ankle a kiss. His mouth moved lovingly over her calf and down her inner thigh, until he was splayed out flat on his stomach, his face mere inches from her center. 

 

Harry ran his index finger along the front of her soaked knickers, and then seemed to need them off quickly as he forcefully tugged them down her hips and off her feet. There was something about having her knickers off, Ginny mused, that always made her course with heat. She could always maintain some semblance of self-control as long as her knickers were on, but the moment they were gone, she was as good as shagged, because there was no turning back. 

 

She never understood the girls in her dorm that could let a guy get them completely starkers, and then change their mind. Ginny had never been that strong, and was grateful that only Harry had ever gotten that far with her. Perhaps it was only because of Harry that she felt that way. Maybe she wouldn’t feel the same with her knickers off in front of some other man. She’d never know, though, because Harry was the only one for her. 

 

All Ginny knew, was that once she was completely bare down there, the ache of emptiness was nearly unbearable, and it drove her insane not to be filled immediately. She looked down at Harry’s buzzed head and smiled. He looked like a teenager again as he slowly kissed her thighs. He ran two fingers along her wet folds causing her to moan, longingly. Without warning, he plunged those two fingers deep inside her, and ran his tongue across her swollen nub. 

 

“Yes! Oh God…Harry!” Ginny wailed, shaking with need. She glanced down, expecting to see Harry’s eyes closed as they usually were when he tasted her, but he was staring intently at her. She smiled, and ran her hands over his head, only now missing his locks, as she had nothing to grip. 

 

“Please…Harry…I…need…” Ginny panted, but she didn’t need to actually tell him, for if it was one thing Harry knew, it was what his wife needed. With a fluid motion, Harry sat up on his knees again, and removed his fingers from deep within Ginny. He sucked those fingers into his mouth, and she quivered at the action. Harry moved swiftly and took off his jeans almost instantly. 

 

Merlin, she missed his cock. It was perfectly manufactured just for her, Ginny often thought. Not too thick, not too long, with a defined curve upward that insured her G-spot would be hit with every single thrust. The ache was back and Ginny was nearly going insane as Harry seemed quite content to stroke himself as he took in every nook and cranny of her body. 

 

“Harry, please!” she screamed, as she threw her legs in the air and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him down on top of her. 

 

“Oof,” Harry grunted, as he landed hard on her, and no doubt bumped his stiff cock against her pelvic bone a bit harder than what was comfortable. 

 

“Sorry,” she murmured, as she attacked his neck with her mouth. “I need you, baby.” Ginny was already grinding against him, causing Harry to moan deep in his throat. He kissed her, trying to take back control of the situation, it appeared. 

 

Once Ginny was a touch less frantic, Harry held himself above her, arms fully extended, and slowly pushed his engorged cock deep inside her. Ginny’s body quaked violently, and she knew she’d be having a massive orgasm with only a few strokes. Her eyes closed tightly as Harry’s hips rolled slowly and Ginny tried not to come so quickly. He moved within her as if it was his first time, and she thought for sure he would be exploding soon as well. 

 

Each stroke seemed calculated and reverent, and through her panting, Ginny realized that Harry was dead silent. This was not at all like Harry. He was a moaner, a grunter and often shouted out praises, especially when Ginny’s breathing was deep and soulful. Suddenly, Ginny had a startling realization as her eyes snapped open to find her husband looking down at her, grafting every detail into his brain. 

 

“Stop it!” Ginny whispered, with her hands on his chest. Harry’s hips stopped moving instantly. 

 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he panted.

 

“I know what you’re doing. Stop it now!” Ginny demanded with a whimper. Harry opened his mouth, seemingly ready to deny whatever she was accusing him of, but Ginny cut him off. 

 

“You’re making love to me for the last time, and I want you to stop it now!” Her chin trembled as she fought to hold back tears. 

 

“Gin,” Harry moaned.

 

“Don’t, Harry, please,” a stubborn tear spilled from her eye, and Harry closed his eyes against the sight. Ginny rolled her hips under him causing Harry to whimper, and snap open his eyes again. 

 

“Close your eyes,” Ginny whispered, continuing to slowly thrust under him, and Harry began to meet her thrust with his own. He shook his head, and continued to watch her.

 

“Do it!” she ordered. “If you are not going to come back to me, then at least give me this!” Harry swallowed hard, but a few seconds later, his eyes slipped closed. 

 

Ginny began to grind against him deeply. Harry’s mouth dropped open as though he wanted to moan, but he would not allow himself to do so. It only took a few moments, however, for Harry to begin to make small noises deep in his throat, but Ginny needed him to fall to pieces completely. Her hands raked down his back and gripped his firm buttocks as they ground against each other passionately. 

 

Harry’s arms shook under the pressure of keeping himself perched above her, but he hadn’t opened his eyes yet, and his moans were growing in volume. She raised her knees to cradle the sides of Harry’s body, and that seemed to kill his will, as his arms gave way and he slumped over her. Now, with their bodies skin to skin, Harry’s thrusts became more demanding, and he was grunting and moaning with every stroke. 

 

Ginny finally let her eyes slip closed, knowing that Harry was now giving himself over to the sheer ecstasy of being inside her. His head lay cradled in the curve of her neck, and he stirred wisps of her hair with his heavy breathing. 

 

“Oh…Ginny…ohh…I love…” he fairly exploded before he could finish that statement, and his teeth sunk into her shoulder. Ginny shuttered and clenched around him as another tear streamed down her face in the midst of her immense orgasm. 

 

The dilapidated cabin was silent, with the exception of their breathing. Harry kissed the spot he had just bitten, with a whispered apology. Ginny ran her hands over his hair, causing him to pull his head back and look her in the eyes. They were silent for a long moment, simply staring at one another. 

 

“Come back, Harry,” she whispered. “We need you.” Before he could give the protest she knew was coming, or say anything about Ron and Hermione, she clarified. “The baby and I need you.” 

 

Whatever Harry was going to say, died in his throat as he gaped at his wife in absolute horror. He stuttered and stammered and then seemed to lose all his ability to speak whatsoever. 

 

“I’m sure,” Ginny answered before he could ask. “I’m about a month along, but it’s been confirmed. So you see, you have to come back. You can’t abandon us. This child needs its father.” Harry slowly separated their bodies, and was finally granted the use of his tongue. 

 

“I would never abandon you, baby or not, Ginny,” he said breathlessly, as he looked down on her in awe. “I left to keep you safe, and I’d do it a million times if it meant you would not be harmed again,” he sniffed, and reached out a hesitant hand to touch her stomach. She held it in place and closed her eyes, at the sudden rush of emotion she felt. She had no plans to tell anyone about the baby until she could tell her husband, and she was ever so grateful that she gotten that chance. 

 

“Are you happy?” she asked, as her heart began to race in anticipation of his answer. Harry brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. 

 

“Of course I’m happy…it’s…it’s just, the fear is outweighing it at the moment,” Harry whispered, and she could see the truth in that statement as she was terribly afraid herself. 

 

“What if—” Harry began, but Ginny sat up and placed two fingers on his lips. 

 

“Let’s not go through _what if’s_ right now, just lay with me for a while, and then we can talk.” Harry nodded slowly, and then lowered his body back down to the fluffy mat and spooned behind her. Ginny thought for certain that she would never be able to sleep, but just like that photo of her, peace and contentment seemed to always be found in the arms of Harry Potter. Soon they had both slipped off into a far more peaceful sleep than either of them had been able to have in the last few weeks. 

 

A couple of hours later, a shiver ran through Ginny, and she woke to find that the fire was dying out. Looking down, she saw Harry’s hand protectively over her stomach, and smiled. Ginny sat up slowly to look for her wand, and the movement woke Harry. 

 

“What is it?” he asked with a yawn, and distractedly rubbed her belly. 

 

“Cold,” she mumbled with a shiver. Harry sprang to his feet and got her jumper. Ginny smiled as she slipped it over her head, wondering if this was how he was going to be throughout the entire pregnancy. He stood, gazing down at her lovingly, as he pulled up his jeans. Harry zipped them, and then stopped just as he was about to button them. 

 

“What’s with you?” Ginny chuckled lightly, thinking he was deciding whether to keep them on or take them off, and have another go, but then she noticed the panic in his eyes. 

 

“Harry, what it is?” 

 

“I…I can’t move.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AN: I know, I know, another cliffie and a pretty evil one too. I'm sorry, but I know for a fact that chapter 9 will be up shortly! I promise...you believe me right? 

Thank you Jaime! I love all the help you've given me, though I'm beyond jealous that you will probably be on a plane to London by the time this is posted. I'm only 10% jealous and 90% happy for you. Well, maybe we can reverse that-lol! Just kidding! Have a ball! or two :-o

 

Karen


	9. Chapter 9 - The Face of Evil

  
Author's notes:

 

* * *

 

 

BONDED Chapter 9 ~ The Face of Evil  

 

As Ron stepped over the threshold of their home, 10 Rose Garden, he was met with darkness. It was fitting, as he currently seemed consumed by it. The only bright spot of the evening was the fact that he hadn’t been arrested. He had expected to be met with a team of his colleagues as he opened the door to the interrogation room, but he wasn’t. He had expected someone to appear and put him in the holding cell beside the one he had placed Sophie Teagarden in, but it didn’t happen. As he quickly made his way through the Ministry, he had expected his Chief to be around every corner ready to take his communicator, and march him back to the detainee department, but Weinpret had never appeared.   

 

The speed at which Ron made it home implied that he was in a hurry to see his wife. However, the fact that he was rooted to the spot in the parlor was saying something quite different. One step into the room, and he could see the faint glow of light coming from their bedroom. She was here, she was safe. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now, he had to talk to her.   

 

Ron took a step and willed the contents of his stomach, however little there was, to stay put. The bedroom door was in front of him before he even realized he’d taken more steps. Silently, he pushed it open and walked inside. Ron could clearly see Hermione in the bathroom, fresh from the shower.   As he filled the doorway, he watched in silence as Hermione stood before the pedestal sink with a white fluffy towel wrapped tightly around her. Tiny bulbs of water hung from her dark ringlets, before they slipped off the end and dropped silently onto the thick cotton towel.   

 

Hermione looked up and caught his eye in the partially steam-fogged mirror, but it was fleeting and she quickly looked away. She busied herself with the thick gelatinous substance she was pumping into her hands. Rubbing them together, she smoothed the stuff through her damp hair, working it in evenly.   

 

The scent of honeysuckle and jasmine filled Ron’s nostrils, and made him want to run and grab handfuls of her, inhaling deeply until he was thoroughly suffocated. Instead, he hesitantly cleared his throat and made his way into the bathroom. After he took a seat on the closed toilet lid, Hermione was merely inches away from him now, and if he leaned forward a bit, he’d be able to grab her around the hips and bury his face in the soft fluffy towel. But those inches now felt like miles as she seemed unable or unwilling to even look at him.   

 

Ron watched silently as she ran a large-toothed comb though her hair, causing her wet curls to spring back with a healthy elasticity. He knew it was because of the potion, but found the action hypnotic all the same. He didn’t even mind that due to his close proximity, he was getting sprinkled with droplets of the scented water that splashed from her hair.   

 

Although he would be content to sit and watch this all evening, Ron knew he had to speak. It was imperative that he be the one to initiate conversation, because he was the one who was wrong, and if he waited for her to speak, it would appear as though he didn’t care enough to talk about it. He’d learned that lesson years ago after a particularly nasty row, fueled by the fact that he thought he’d let her cool down before he spoke to her. That had been the wrong decision. Ron cleared his throat.   

 

“Er…so…she was the one who poisoned Harry’s soup.” Hermione stopped combing her hair immediately. She glanced down at him, but then quickly looked back at the mirror. From his vantage point, Ron could only see the profile of her left side, but even with that limited view, he could tell that she was fit to kill. Hermione took several calming breaths and then continued to comb her hair.   

 

“Why?” she whispered, and Ron almost missed the weighty question, she’d spoken so softly. Why indeed? He only had some of the answers because Sophie Teagarden only had some of the answers. Ron forced his brain to do a rewind and play back everything she had told him. He knew if anyone would be able to pick up something from scraps of information, it would be Hermione.   

 

“She was made to do it,” he paused. “Not by an Unforgivable or anything. It appears the dark-haired woman is Isabella… _Lestrange_.” The comb fell from Hermione’s hand mid-stroke and she froze, arm bent at a ninety degree angle and face in a horrified expression. Ron quickly recited all the information he’d gathered from Teagarden, keeping sure to leave out the fact that the woman wanted him to apologize to Hermione for what she had done. He was certain Hermione couldn’t give a rat’s arse about an apology.   

 

Sophie had told Ron, sobbingly, that impersonating Hermione was never part of the original plan. She’d longed for Ron after only meeting him once that day in Hermione’s office. It was something about the way he looked at Hermione, the way he wore his love for her on his sleeve for the entire world to see, that was both crushing and beautiful, she had told him. No one had ever looked at her that way, and for the briefest of moments, while inside Hermione’s skin, Sophie had received that look _and_ that love from Ron. She told him that she would carry it with her forever, even if it was never meant for her. Being speechless and utterly terrified by the intense confession, Ron had simply and silently escorted her to the holding cell.  

 

Hermione was now griping the sink and her eyes were squinted as if she was trying to see something that was really tiny. However, Ron knew she was thinking, weaving and unweaving facts, assembling pieces of the massive puzzle in her mind and seeing which ones were still missing.   

 

“Why would Bellatrix’s daughter have a grudge against Harry?” she asked, and it was more to herself than to Ron. “Harry didn’t kill Bellatrix. ‘Course, this doesn’t seem to be just about revenge, if it was, she would have merely killed him. No, this is about more than that. She wants something from Harry, but what?” Hermione tapped her nails on the sink in a distracted way. Ron simply sat back and watched her mind work.  “What are her motives? Why can’t I figure this out?” Hermione mumbled. “Did _she_ have any input on that?” she asked without looking at Ron.

 

He shook his head and said, “Sophie said Lestrange never told her why she wanted to poison Harry. Never revealed her entire plan.” Ron stated and caught Hermione’s eye in the mirror. Her lips were in a tight line as she folded her arms over her chest.   

“Did _Sophie_ say why she was in my office under Polyjuice?” Hermione spat, and Ron knew he’d made a critical mistake using her first name in such a familiar way.   

He swallowed. “No, she…she simply said they were looking for any information they could find to help locate Harry and stop us,” he finished quietly.  

“So, shagging you was what? A perk?” Hermione said in a quiet, albeit deadly tone. Ron was silent for a long moment, longer than he probably should have been, but he had no clue what to say to that. His first instinct was to point out that he hadn’t actually shagged the woman, but he knew Hermione was aware of that, so there was no need to mention it. He took a deep breath and willed himself to speak.   

“Please, don’t do this,” he whispered.  

“Don’t do what?” Hermione asked sharply, as she turned to face him. Ron could feel her eyes on him, but his neck seemed incapable of lifting his head so he stared at the center of the white towel wrapped around her.   

“Don’t do what, Ron? Don’t be angry? Don’t be hurt? Don’t what? Please tell me what I _shouldn’t_ be feeling right now!” Ron finally looked up at her, but dropped his eyes just as quickly because the pain he was met with was enough to choke him.   

“You know I thought it was you…you know I would never…I only just realized right before you walked in.”  

“I know that, Ron!” she bit out, and Ron thought for sure that she was not going to say that so he was rendered speechless for a moment.   

“So…so then be…rational,” he said, meeting her eyes, and knew instantly that he had said the wrong thing. Hermione was fairly shaking with emotion right now, and Ron felt a bit trapped in the cozy bathroom as she towered over him in his sitting position.  

“RATIONAL! I am rational, Ronald! I’m quite rational and quite logical…sometimes to a fault!” she breathed raggedly. “And honestly, at times, I think you and Harry sell me short because of it. The moment I have a reaction that’s not based on sound scientific theory, you two call me emotional or mental!” She stepped closer to him, causing Ron to sit back a bit.   

“Yes, rationally I know that you thought you were with me! I’m not stupid! But the part of me that is a woman, a wife and your lover does not like to walk into my office and see my husband’s COCK half way down another woman’s throat!” she screamed, and her entire body was trembling now. Ron cringed. He was not used to Hermione using such language, but he was nowhere near stupid enough to say anything about it. No, Ron was going to shut his mouth and let her get this out.  

“You know, for a second…I had no idea she was Polyjuiced. I simply saw the back of her head and thought…my…my husband is…” Hermione covered her face. Ron stood immediately, and reached out for her. His hands were only on her shoulders but for a fraction of a second before she shrugged him off. He sat again quickly, and Hermione backed away from him until she was against the wall. Her shoulders shook as she quietly sobbed, and Ron pressed down the lump in his throat.   

“Please,” he whispered, longing to comfort her, promise her that it would never happen again, and do something to stop her pain. She gave a great sniff, and wiped her face.   

“You know what the worst part is?” Hermione began again in a ghost of a voice. It was not a question she wanted Ron to answer, and he wouldn’t have been able to anyway. “I’ve never worried about being tricked by Polyjuice, you know?” she sniffed again. “I was foolish enough to think that no one could ever fool us, you see,” she had a far off look in her eyes now, and Ron was beginning to worry.   

“I guess it was childish, a girl’s romanticized fantasy at best, but I always believed that you would know me…” her chin trembled, “…know the moment you looked into the eyes of an impostor that it was not me. And I, for that matter, would know you if the reverse ever happened. But now…now I don’t even trust myself and it scares me to death,” she ended in a whisper.   

Ron’s eyes stung with hot tears as he watched his wife and his marriage deteriorate right before his eyes. He slid off the end of the toilet seat and fell to his knees before Hermione. His arms wrapped around her waist, and he pressed his face into her towel clad belly.  

“I’m sorry!” Ron let out a muffled scream. “I didn’t mean it!” he gave a great shuddering breath. “Please! Let me fix this!”  Hermione’s arms hung limply at her sides. Never before had he ever hugged her like this without her arms instantly encircling him, and her fingers running through his hair. Ron wanted her to do this so desperately that he grabbed her left arm and plunked it down on his head. She merely let it fall again. The groan that came from him nearly rattled his toes. He was rapidly losing his grip on this world, and that made him hold onto her tighter.   

“Do…do you want me to…leave?” God! He hadn’t meant to ask that question! It had been running around in his head from the moment he stepped into the bathroom, but he had vowed never to utter it, for the answer could surely kill him. It was out now, and he squeezed his eyes tight against the answer Hermione was about to give. 

“This…”she sniffed loudly, “…this is terribly unfair to you…”she choked. “I know it is…but…but I can’t help the way I feel,” a sob got caught in her throat. “I just…just need…time, I suppose. You can’t fix it.” Ron didn’t quite know what to make of that. Should he leave or should he stay?  

“Do you…should I…” he buried his face in the towel again, not able to bring himself to repeat the question. Hermione reached behind her and pulled his arms off her hips. Ron didn’t resist, he was going to give her whatever she wanted, even if it meant walking out of her life forever.   

“Hermione?” he whimpered, as his eyes swam with unshed tears.  

“I want you…” she paused, as did Ron’s heart. “…to…shower thoroughly before coming to bed,” her eyes caught his fleetingly, then she grabbed her dressing gown off of the hook on the wall and walked out, closing the door behind her. For what seemed like a small eternity, but was nothing more than five minutes or so, Ron stayed in that same position on his knees, staring at the closed bathroom door.   

When the cold tiles began to dig into him painfully, Ron finally stood. It was as if he was having an out of body experience. Floating above himself, he watched as he quickly disrobed. The clothing now feeling like a dirty reminder of what had happened, he couldn’t get them off fast enough.   

Standing under the hottest spray he could stand, Ron nearly seared his flesh from his bones, but it was worth it. Angrily, violently, he washed himself, until he was red. Then without warning, he turned and drove his fist into the shower wall. Before he even felt the mind-numbing pain, he knew his hand and possibly his wrist were broken by the sound of the sickening crunch it made.   

“FUCK!” he screamed out, as he dropped to his knees, shaking with hysterical pain. Ron tenderly held his rapidly swelling hand and stepped out of the shower. His good hand was shaking so terribly that he was hardly able to aim his wand. Biting down, he mumbled a spell and held his breath as the bones in his hand and wrist mended. Still tight from his ever swelling knuckles, the skin on his hand was now turning purple, but Ron didn’t care about that. It was functional; he could live with the pain.   

After he’d sat on the toilet lid for several long minutes, letting his breathing calm, Ron reached into the shower and shut off the water. He stood before the sink, preparing to brush his teeth and any traces of that woman from his mouth. On his third go round of loading his brush and scrubbing his teeth, Ron looked at himself in the mirror.   

Merlin, who was he if he wasn’t with Hermione? For as long as he could remember, she was a part of him. Could he even live without her? No, he couldn’t, not a full life anyway. Without her, he’d be forced into a half life, some sort of shadow of himself, before finally drifting off into nothingness, perhaps something akin to the after effects of a Dementor’s Kiss, and then one day, he’d simply cease to exist altogether. Hell, his eyes already looked empty, he thought, as he stared at his reflection.  

“I can fix this,” Ron said to himself, but it sounded too much like a question to be convincing, even to his own ears. He breathed in deeply. “I can fix this!” he gnashed out, then dipped his head into the sink and rinsed his mouth several times.   

As Ron stepped into the room, he could see Hermione curled stiffly on her side of the bed with her back to him. She was lying on top of the covers, and her white satin dressing gown was still on, though the towel was carelessly tossed on the foot of the bed. He could tell she was not asleep, her body was too tight and her breathing was too uneven.   

The bathroom was on Ron’s side of the room, so he merely walked over and perched on the edge of the bed. He grabbed his pyjama bottoms and slipped them on, then stiffly reclined onto his pillow. With his arms at his sides, Ron looked up at the ceiling, feeling as if the chasm between them was growing with every breath he took.   

“I knew…” Ron began, but choked on a sob. Merlin! He was turning into a bloody girl with all the crying. He rolled his eyes at himself, which only made a fat tear slip out and roll back into his ear. “…I always knew…I’d be…the one to…ruin us,” he swallowed hard, and heard Hermione expel a breath. As he glanced at the back of her, he saw her shoulders trembling under the strain of trying to suppress her tears. Ron’s were flowing silently unchecked now, as he fought hard to stave off a full-bellied wail.     

Just as he was about to speak again, he felt Hermione shift and for a moment, he thought it was his imagination when he felt her delicate fingers curl around his hand. She had reached behind her and blindly found his hand. That was all he needed. The distance between them was closed instantly as Ron molded his body to the back of hers. She broke then. Sobs racked her chest, painful, loudly, gut wrenchingly, and Ron merely held on. He wept silently with his face buried in her neck. Suddenly Ron began speaking, almost against his will and certainly without any forethought to what he was going to say.  

“Th—they are tr—trying to come between us…” he panted. “We can’t let them. They’ve already done it to Harry and Ginny! We can’t let them have us too!” he nearly strangled trying to keep from screaming. Hermione was doing it for him, however. With every word he spoke, she seemed to cry harder. Ron threw his leg over hers and pulled her deeper into him. If he could, he’d fuse them together. Surely, then he’d feel close enough. Because now, it was not enough!   

“I know you…you don’t want to hear it again…but I’m _SO_ sorry!” he sobbed loudly into her neck. “It will never happen again!” his breath hitched in his chests and he continued to speak over Hermione’s drowning tears.   

“Somewhere along the way, you weaved yourself into my soul, Hermione! I don’t know exactly when it happened, but you are in me, forever! I KNOW YOU!” Ron growled, and Hermione’s hands clamped over her face, and if possible she cried harder.    

Ron wanted to tell her, scream to her just how he knew it was not her that he was with, but he knew Hermione could live the rest of her life never knowing exactly _how_ he knew. Sophie Teagarden was an imposter, he realized later, because her mouth tasted different, her juices were not the same as his delicious wife’s, and because she had no idea how to suck his cock! No, he would never say those things to Hermione, and possibly give her a far more vivid picture than what she already had.   

“I can’t explain it Hermione, but trust me when I tell you, I realized it wasn’t you a moment before you walked in. I…I can only blame…extreme fatigue…stress and…and my all consuming need to please you,” he whimpered, and held onto her trembling body. Hermione had yet to settle. She looked as if she were struggling to speak or perhaps breathe, Ron couldn’t tell which.   

“You’re wrong, Hermione! There aren’t two people on this planet that know each other better than we do! You would know an imposter because, you know me!” he growled. In one movement, Ron had rolled Hermione onto her back and he was now on top of her. He wrenched her hands away from her face, and their eyes locked.   

“I know you!” he hissed through his own sob, then his mouth was on hers. It was impossible to kiss her though, because she was crying so violently. Ron’s mouth slipped down her chin, and he tasted the salt of her tears. He let them roll around his tongue and encode themselves into his memory forever. His hands held hers firmly above her head, and he pressed his palms to hers feeling the soft pads. Then he weaved his fingers between hers and ran them over her bony knuckles, memorizing the delicate nature of her hands.   

The crux of her neck was covered in tears as well and Ron stored them to memory too before he swallowed them down. He let her hands loose and trailed his fingers down the underside of her wrist, stopping at her pulse points, which were thumping wildly. Further down to the inside of her elbows, he took note of the baby softness of the flesh there. Soon his hands had worked their way down her sides and he tugged at the belt of her satin dressing gown. It came undone with hardly any effort, and now she lay bare before him. Dressing gown wide open, and her naked body was exposed to his burning gaze.   

Hermione trembled terribly as her weeping continued. Ron rested his head over her left breast and listened to her heart thump. His eyes were desperate as he looked up at her, then he brought her hand up and placed it over his heart.   

“ _I know you_ ,” he whispered. Again, Hermione looked as though she wanted to speak, but nothing could cut though the horrendous sobs pouring from her now. Ron’s mouth was on her, reverently blazing a trail of memories to be locked in the steel trap he’d placed in his mind. His tongue encircled her breasts tasting, loving, memorizing. He ran his hot mouth down the dip in her belly, around her navel and lower to her pelvic bone.   

As his mouth brushed over her neat curls, Hermione’s body thrashed about as her sobs were broken up by her panting. Ron slowly ran his hands along her legs, feeling his way over the smooth skin, down to her feet. All the while, he kissed around her center and mumbled, “ _I know you_.”   

He pushed her legs wide open as his mouth made first contact with her wet folds. At first glance, anyone who may have walked in on this scene would have surely thought that Ron was hurting her, possibly forcing himself on her. For Hermione was still sobbing steadily and loudly. Upon closer inspection however, they would’ve seen that Hermione was gripping Ron’s hair tightly, ensuring that his head stayed right where it was. No, she was not being hurt in the least and now, Ron could hardly tell the difference between her sobs and moans of ecstasy.   

His entire mouth covered her center fully as he drank down her essence. He knew this taste, knew everything about it. Hermione’s juices tasted practically of nothing at all, with just a hint of sweetness. Her scent always reminded him of creamy things. Milk, butter… _chocolate_ , but if someone were to ask him what she smelled like, he would never say any of those things, because she smelled of none them. Her scent merely triggered the memory of them, perhaps because milk, butter and chocolate always made him feel good. He could never be in a foul mood while eating any of them. They sparked feelings of warmth, of comfort, of home. And that’s when he realized, Hermione smelled of… _home_.   

Even as his tongue swirled, and he sucked earnestly, Ron knew her taste and scent was imprinted on his soul like a ghostly possession. Never would he forget it; he hadn’t forgotten it to begin with. Hermione was quaking against him now, shuttering as she moaned loudly and longingly until she arched off the bed with her cries finally stifled in her throat. She was frozen like that for a few long seconds, and then her body collapsed to the bed has if she no longer held any bones.   

Her chest heaved under her gasps, as Ron kissed his way up her body, worshipfully. His head came to rest in the center of her chest, nestled between her heavenly bosoms. As she calmed her breathing, Hermione encircled Ron in her arms, running her fingers through his fiery locks. Settling himself to her rhythmic heartbeat, Ron gave a sigh that carried with it, a final whisper of, “ _I know you_.”   

*****   

Ginny dove for her wand, but just as her hand reached it, it flew from her grasp and into the fire, which roared to life again.   

“GINNY, RUN!” Harry hollered from his frozen position a few feet away from her. She stood quickly, but a second later, she too was rooted to the spot, only able to move her eyes and mouth. The couple watched in horror as a large section by the door began to shimmer with life and before their eyes a cloaked figure materialized.   

A pale bony hand rose and removed the heavy hood obstructing the intruder’s face. Her piercing blue eyes were the first things to come into view, and Ginny actually gasped upon seeing them. There was a maddened gleam to them and it sent a fear-filled shiver down Ginny’s spine. The room was silent as the woman ran her hand over her head as if she was merely fixing her appearance after arriving for tea. Ginny knew instantly that the hand was the same one that she had felt on her arm earlier that evening.  

“Who are you? What do you want?” Ginny shouted, but the woman ignored her as she slowly approached Harry.   

“Hello, Harry,” she whispered seductively, then ran her hand over his bare chest appraisingly.  

“Get your filthy hands off of him!” Ginny screamed furiously. Again, the woman ignored her.   

“Who are you?” Harry asked calmly. 

The woman smiled. “Don’t you recognize me, Harry? I should look familiar to you.”  

“You’re the woman from the coffee cart,” he said, with only a slight hint of a question at the end. Ginny, however, thought she looked familiar too and wondered if she’d seen her at the Atrium canteen as well.  

“Why yes, I am, but I think you may know me from somewhere else.” Harry squinted at her. Ginny knew the woman must be a big blur, for Harry’s glasses were still resting on the hearth.   

“I’ve been told,” the woman continued, “that I look a lot like my mother.” Her smile sent chills up Ginny’s spine. “Perhaps you remember her…Bellatrix.” The cabin was eerily silent for a moment as both Harry and Ginny gaped at the stranger.   

“Bel—Bellatrix didn’t have a daughter,” Harry stammered.  

“HOW DO YOU KNOW?” she screamed, and Ginny was sure this woman was not stable. “My name is Isabella, Harry. They call me Bella too,” she stepped forward with her hand extended as though they were meeting under civilized circumstances.   

“Oh, dear, I suppose you can’t shake my hand can you?” she commented, gesturing toward Harry’s frozen state. All the same, she grasped his stiff thumb and gave it a little shake, as it was locked in an upright position. Ginny’s eyes widened as the realization that this woman was truly insane fully sunk in. Just as Ginny’s heart began to thump, she saw Harry’s hand twitch and they locked eyes. In that brief second, Ginny knew Harry was fighting the spell. They needed to stall.   

“What do you want?” Ginny asked, and was ignored again completely. It was almost as if the woman couldn’t even hear Ginny. She gave no indication that Ginny’s voice was even registering sound.   

“What do you want?” Harry asked, and Isabella smiled.   

“I want what everyone wants, power, respect… _love_ ,” she gave her shoulders a casual shrug.   

“I don’t understand what _I_ have to do with this.”   

“Well,” she laughed, “at first, I wanted revenge for what you did to my mother.” Harry stared at her confusedly, as did Ginny.   

“I didn’t do anything to your mother, as I remember it, she got away during the final battle, and has been a fugitive ever since.”  

“She is NOT a fugitive! She is a feeble old woman, who is a shell of herself because of you! She has no memory! No coherent thoughts! NOTHING! And it’s all your fault!” Isabella shouted, stepping up to Harry’s face.   

Harry gaped at the screaming woman with wide eyes and Ginny knew he was playing back the final battle in his head. She vividly remembered the epic event, chasing after Harry, who was chasing after Bellatrix. He threw every curse he could think of at the woman, and she just kept running.   

Some of the curses were so juvenile in their nature, Ginny reasoned, but enough of them piled on top of each other could do a lot of damage. Harry had also hit her with some pretty powerful ones as well. There was no telling what the consequences of such a combination.   

Unfortunately, the Death Eaters showed up that night with strong shields around them. Even though Bellatrix had lost her wand, the shield still protected her a bit, otherwise, Ginny was sure Harry would have killed her. She had never before seen such anguish on his face as what he wore the night he’d chased down the woman who had taken Sirius away from him. Ginny had to physically restrain Harry to keep him from stepping off the grounds and Apparating after her. It was only the fact that Harry didn’t know where Ron and Hermione were at the moment that kept him grounded, otherwise, he would have hunted her down for sure. Even now, almost seven years later, Ginny was certain that Harry still looked for her occasionally.   

“She almost made it back to me,” Isabella continued, sadly. “We found her in the forest near my house…she was coming back to me,” she whispered, with a mad pitch to her voice.   

“It was days, we’d gathered, that she had been in that forest. Cold, hungry, suffering from spell damage and splinched!” Isabella shouted angrily, and Ginny was astounded by the mood swings this woman was going through. “We never did find her leg and those seven fingers,” Isabella finished, mournfully.   

Merlin! If she could, Ginny would have turned her back and had a good laugh at the mental picture of a one-legged, three fingered Bellatrix Lestrange. That action would have certainly gotten her hexed by the woman; fortunately, the fact that she was completely terrified at the moment, outweighed her desire to chuckle. Isabella eyes misted over as she continued to recount her mother’s downfall.   

“All she would say was, _“Harry Potter”_ …for two weeks straight!” she breathed. “I knew then that you were the one responsible for my mother’s state and I had to do anything and everything in my power to fix it! As the sole heir to the Lestrange legacy, it is my duty!” she straightened her back proudly.   

“What about your father?” Harry asked, but Ginny knew he was only trying to stall, because he knew full well that Rodolphus Lestrange was killed in the final battle.  

 “DEAD!” Isabella snapped, wildly. 

 

 “Why is it, we’ve never heard of you, then?” Harry followed up, further pulling the unstable woman into more conversation. She fixed him with a rather defensive glare.  

“I was not raised here!” she spat. “My parents knew that the Lestrange name carried with it certain…prejudice. So they left me with relatives in Russia while they tried to make a better world for me.” She smoothed her robes in an aristocratic movement. Only then did Ginny pick up a hint of a Russian accent, apparently the woman could turn it on and off at will.  

“You mean they abandoned you while they chased after a diabolical maniac!” Harry snorted.   

“That is not true!” she shouted, looking even more unhinged than before.   

“It is true!” Harry yelled in return, and Ginny could see the anger building in him. She knew her husband, and could see that he thought this whole situation was utterly ridiculous.   

“Your parents thought it was more important to follow Voldemort than it was to take care of their own child! So much so, no one even knew you existed!” he breathed.  

“That is NOT true! They were arrested because they were trying to stand up for their beliefs!” she spat.  

“That’s bullshit! When Voldemort disappeared, your parents could have gone back to you, but they didn’t, they thought it better to torture the Longbottoms! And when they were arrested, your mother had every opportunity to recant and possibly go back to you, but she remained steadfast in her support of Voldemort, even as the Dementors were carting her mental arse away!”   

“YOU LIAR!” Isabella stepped forward, and slapped Harry hard across the face. He was shaking with fury now, and Ginny saw his hand twitch again, causing hope to flow through her veins. She hoped his anger would fuel his power, fuel it enough to break the spell completely.    

“My parents loved me!” she shouted, and flecks of spit sprayed from her mouth.

 

“Your parents loved Voldemort! Nothing more, nothing less…they _did not_ love you!”  

“SHUT UP!” she screamed, closing her eyes tight, and clamping her hands over her ears. 

“They loved me!”  

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Harry goaded her evilly, then cast a nervous glance over at Ginny. Isabella didn’t seem to know what to make of his attitude, but it was clear she was furious.   

“So again, I have to ask, what do you want with me?” Harry spat, and the pale woman took a few calming breaths, then reached in her pocket and pulled out a red phial.   

“I’ve thought it through,” she smiled excitedly. “It’ll be so brilliant…you’re going to be the next Dark Lord!” Silence gripped the room as Isabella’s words rang through the air.  

“Wha—what?” Harry stammered.   

“Yes, I’ve already planned it all out!” she said with wild eyes. “I’ve created you a new Dark Mark, and a new deadly curse, and I’ve even gotten you followers, well one so far, but we will gain an army in no time!” She smiled widely.    

“She should have been here by now.” Isabella stamped her foot. “That’s what took me so long to come in, I was waiting for her…wanted to make a grand entrance of sorts...besides, the show was not too bad, but I’m a much better lay than that blood-traitor whore you married.” She licked her lips. Ginny gritted her teeth, if only she could move, she’d…well, she’d do something and it would be painful! Isabella looked around distractedly, as though simply waiting on a tardy dinner guest.   

“I suppose my Sophie is probably shagging your red-headed mate right now,” she chuckled in a snotty sort of way, as if she had just told a polite joke.   

“You’re lying!” Harry shouted, angrily. “The only woman Ron will even go near is Hermione. He’d never—”  

“Who says he doesn’t think he _is_ with his wife right now?” she asked, with an evil gleam in her eyes. “That bushy-haired twit he married sheds like cat. Sophie got enough hairs off her jumper to make a wig!” Isabella gave a loud cackle.   

“No!” Ginny gasped, thinking of the horror of Ron being with a Polyjuiced version of Hermione. She caught Harry’s eye again as a tear dropped to her cheek. Harry swallowed and appeared to be thinking of more ways to stall as Ginny saw his hand fully close into a fist. Suddenly, she felt her own hand twitch. _We’ve got to get out of this!_ She screamed in her head.  

“Now,” Isabella took a step toward Harry with the phial. He looked panicked, and seemed to be searching for some way to stall her.   

“Did you kill Caroline?” he shouted.   

“Who?” she paused, confusedly. “Oh, you mean the lowly maid girl? Yes, I did,” Isabelle answered happily. “But that was your fault Potter, and that stupid slag of a wife of yours,” she bit out, and shot Ginny the smallest of glances, but it was the first time she had even appeared to see Ginny.   

“I would have never known where you were had it not been for that tart you married and your bushy haired misfit of a friend,” she chuckled. 

“See, I was cloaked outside of your house the night you attacked your wife, of course I had to watch. It was fascinating!” she smiled wide, showing practically all of her teeth, and it was the creepiest thing Ginny had ever seen  

“But you were running too fast for me to grab on and Apparate with you. I thought you’d be lost to me for good, but the next day, I heard those two ninnies talking as they left the house, and the ugly one was worried about what her husband had done to you so they needed to get to _Doncaster_ fast!” she laughed loudly.  

“Well, I was supposed to kill that bitch you married, you see.” Ginny clenched her teeth against the insult, clearly this woman hated her. “They all made me so angry, hovering over you as they were, and I couldn’t get to you to give you another dose. So, I thought if I made you think you’d killed your wife, then you’d run away and I could get you alone. But that freakishly tall brother of hers wouldn’t let her out of his sight. I saw my opportunity when the maid showed, so I took it,” she shrugged casually.   

“Then I went outside and cast the Dark Mark, to build up the fear, you know.” She waved her hand idly in the air. “I hid in the shadows across the street and watched all the silly people scurry about, terrified that Voldemort was back, it was quite amusing.”   

Harry looked as though he was having a hard time comprehending the whole thing. Ginny, however, knew that this woman had been playing with them for weeks now and wondered just how far she was willing to go. They needed to do something fast!  

“Wha—what about Alphard Black and his family?” Harry stammered, slowly. Isabella rolled her eyes.  

“That useless dolt! I found him purely by accident, since we all thought he was dead, the bloody coward. I was ever so excited that I’d found a family member who seemed to be knowledgeable of the ways in which my mother was raised. I’ve never been able to get much information on it. Not the truth anyway, and clearly she is in no state to tell me,” she stopped and took an angry breath. 

“That idiot wanted no part of my plan, said I was insane! Can you believe that?” She looked at Harry as if she expected him to say, _no…not you!_   She was rambling now, and Ginny was happy that Harry was smart enough to ask her questions that drew long detailed answers. Ginny had long since given up on getting her questions answered, as the mental woman seemed intent on ignoring her.  

“Well, when his filthy Muggle wife and disgusting half-blood daughter came home, he tried to shoo me out! Honestly! As if _he_ should be ashamed of me! _Me_ a pureblood! So I tried out my new spell on them, and it worked fantastically! Then I tried the Dark Mark, it took me some time to get it right, you know. Make it big enough and just the right shade of red,” she nodded, as if remembering the difficulty of the task.   

“You know,” she stepped forward, and ran her hand over Harry’s forearm. “That’s the first time I saw you,” she smiled. “You and the other Aurors were simply standing in front of the house, staring up at the Dark Mark… _your mark_. You were so handsome, I knew then that I’d made the right decision,” she nodded again.  

“Where were you?” Harry asked hoarsely, and his face held an expression of complete bewilderment. Ginny could see that so many things were coming together in his head, that it was probably giving him a migraine.    

“Oh, I was in the thick of trees beside the house, with a shimmer on. I created that too,” she said proudly. “You can blend into any substance around you, and it renders you totally silent. It’s sort of an upgrade to the standard disillusionment charm. Oh don’t worry, I’ve made it with a warming charm as well, so I was perfectly cozy out there.” She gave a charming smile.   

Ginny was getting more and more terrified with every word out of Isabella’s mouth, for this woman was not only insane, but she was smart. To create complex spells as she had, she may even give Hermione a run for her money. Ginny swallowed thickly; _well at least Hermione has sanity on her side._   

“Why me?” Harry asked, and looked truly exasperated by the shocking woman.   

“Well isn’t it obvious, you _are_ the most powerful wizard alive! You’ve defeated the most powerful wizard of all time, so you must take his place!”  

“I had help! Loads of it!” Harry shouted, and Ginny knew it was a sore spot for him, being deemed the savior of the world when he had more help than he’d ever thought possible.  

Isabella shook her head dismissively. “Only _you_ will be able to gather the followers that the Dark Lord did. Everyone already knows who you are, _and_ half of the population is already afraid of you, evil as well as good!” she said, incredulously.   

Harry bit is lip and it appeared to Ginny that he was truly at a loss of what to do or say to that. Everything Isabella had said was true. Harry _would_ make an excellent Dark Lord. People revered him, and were certainly willing to follow him to their deaths, but people also feared him, for he had too many things in common with Voldemort.   

If the amount of followers he had to help him fight the good fight was any indication, Ginny was almost physically ill with the thought of how many people would follow him should he turn to malevolence. If there was one thing about people who pledged their allegiance to evil …they will follow the power no matter who was wielding it.   

“You see?” Isabella said, and took a step closer. “You understand what I want? I want you to be my Lord, my lover… _my_ husband! That’s what the Dark Lord was missing, someone to care for him…someone to love him,” she smoothed a gentle finger down Harry’s jaw, causing Ginny to grit her teeth with the need to beat this woman to death with her bare hands.   

“I want to do that for you! I want to be by your side when you raise a new power in this boring world and maybe…” she looked down sadly, “…maybe, my mother will come back to herself,” Isabella ended in a whisper.   

Ginny was shaking with fury. “The way I see it, your mother got her comeuppance for what she did to Neville’s parents! She deserves every bit of suffering she’s got, and then some!” she shouted, and that’s what finally got Isabella to acknowledge the red-head’s presence. She whirled around and stalked over to Ginny, punching the smaller woman in the face, sending her stiff body toppling hard to the floor.  

“STOP! LEAVE HER ALONE!” Harry screamed, with gripping fear in his voice. Ginny moaned as her body crashed hard against the wooden boards.   

“Don’t you ever speak of my mother! You aren’t good enough to even whisper her name!” Isabella growled over Ginny.   

“You’re just as pathetic as Bellatrix,” Ginny glared up at her angrily. “And just as insane I might add! Get your own bloody husband, because the only way you’ll get mine is over my dead body!” she snarled, speaking out of anger rather than logic. Ginny realized her mistake when she saw the delighted sparkle in Isabella’s crazy blue eyes.   

“That, my dear, has always been the plan,” she purred, then marched back over to Harry.   

“Please, don’t hurt her,” he pleaded. “I’ll…I’ll do anything” Ginny watched in horror as the woman pressed her large bosom against Harry, and kissed him on the mouth. He closed his lips tightly.  

“Anything?” Isabella questioned. “Perhaps we should shag, right here in front of her,” she glanced over at Ginny in a teasing way as she ran her tongue down Harry’s bare chest.   

“Impossible,” he stated flatly, though he was breathing hard.   

“Is that so?” she licked her way back up his chest, and sucked his nipple into her mouth. Ginny closed her eyes.  

 “It is impossible for me to get hard for any woman who is not my wife.” Ginny’s eyes flew open at Harry’s smug, but adamant statement.   

“Is that right?” Isabella shouted angrily, and made to shove her hand down the front of Harry’s jeans in an obvious attempt to grab his cock. She wasn’t counting on Harry grabbing her wrist in his strong hand. Isabella screamed as Ginny looked on in panicked excitement.   

The pale woman wrenched her arm away from Harry forcefully, and he almost toppled forward since everywhere else on him was still quite frozen. With a fumbling hand, she flicked her wand and Harry’s head tilted back.   

“You want to make me do this the hard way!” she growled, as she stepped forward, uncorked the red bottle, and pouring the entire contents into Harry’s mouth.   

“NO!” Ginny screamed. Isabella flicked her wand again, and Harry’s head tipped forward so they were now face to face once again.   

“How do you—” Before Isabella could finish that question, she was covered in the potion, as Harry had just spat it in her face. Ginny’s heart thumped rapidly, and she wanted to shout with joy that Harry hadn’t swallowed the poison.   

Isabella calmly wiped her face, and the movement made her appear even more deranged. To Ginny’s utter terror, the insane woman reached into her pocket and pulled out another potion. The fear in Harry’s eyes was prevalent now, as they both knew that, although Isabella Lestrange was clearly crazy, she was _not_ stupid. She would not fall for that trick again.   

As Harry’s head flipped back again, Ginny prayed that someone would come in, something would happen to stop this woman from what she was trying to do. But as she watched Harry’s mouth fill with the potion again and his jaws snap shut under the will of Isabella, Ginny knew there was nothing to be done.  

Harry fought it as long as he could. His head must have been forced back for a small eternity before Isabella grabbed his nose and pinched. Harry was red and shaking violently as he fought against his natural instinct to swallow. Unfortunately, the body will do what it must and with a painful groan, Ginny knew it was over, Harry had swallowed the potion.   

Isabella removed the spell that was holding his head back and locking his jaw. Ginny watched with tear-blurred vision while Harry began to pant rapidly as the poison took hold of him. The smile on Isabella’s face told Ginny all she needed to know. The potion was working just as she’d wanted it. With a casual wave of her wand, Harry was free to move now, and he clenched his fists at his sides.   

now trained on Ginny and the red-head stared fiercely at the woman who was ultimately going to bring about her demise. She would not give her the pleasure of cry or begging. Never! However, Ginny couldn’t control the surprise that came over her face when she found that she could now move. Quickly she scrambled to her feet, wondering what this insane woman was doing.   

Ginny soon found out, unfortunately, as Isabella turned to Harry and shouted, “KILL HER!”  

Tears coursed down Ginny’s face freely, and she was not above begging now, as she watched her husband turn and glare at her. His beautiful green eyes, now replaced with blood red ones, Harry looked utterly terrifying as he took a menacing step toward her.   

“Please, Harry, you have to fight it!” Ginny screamed, as she prayed that it was near ten o’clock and Ron was reading her letter at this very moment.     

 

 

AN: Hope you all don't hate me because if the cliffie! I had to stop it somewhere. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and it answered all the motive questions you had. One more chapter to go but it's a biggie, almost 30 pages! Thank you, to my "Comma Commando", Jaime. You Rock! Can't wait for you to get back! 

Thank you for all the fantastic reviews, please leave more! LOL.

 

 

 Karen 


	10. Chapter 10 - Bonding

  
Author's notes:

*****This has beta'd by Jamie/thetriomakesmehot*****

* * *

 

 

Chapter 10 ~ Bonding  

Ron’s eyes snapped open. He had heard something, or so he’d thought. Slowly, he lifted his head from the bosom of his wife. With ears stretched and breath held, Ron listened, but there was nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned his attention to Hermione. Still in his position nestled in between her legs, the bulk of his weight resting on the bed, Ron gazed upon her lovingly.   

Hermione lay asleep beneath him, her mouth slightly open and her breathing rhythmic. Without realizing it, Ron’s hand ghosted across her cheek and over her full mouth. She stirred and within seconds, her eyes opened slowly. Although they had been asleep for less than an hour, it had been deep and cleansing. At least Ron hoped his marriage was working its way back to being normal.   

As Hermione’s gaze focused on him, Ron held his breath. Would she still be angry and hurt, or would she now be regretful? He hadn’t meant to do anything sexual with her, he had simply wanted to be close to her, and being with her like that was the only time he ever felt like he could touch her soul.   

Before he even realized he was speaking, he had whispered, “I know you.” Hermione’s face scrunched up in a frown, and she looked as though she was going to cry again. _Fuck!_ Ron shouted in his head, would he ever get it right? A soft hand on his whiskered face halted his mental berating.   

Hermione struggled to speak, but managed to say, “I…know,” she swallowed hard and pulled his head to her until their mouths met. Ron wanted to cry out as he gently pushed his tongue into her warm mouth. He slid up her body a bit, and was now directly over her. As his mouth slipped down her jaw and over her ear, he whispered another apology. Hermione gently, but firmly pushed at his chest, causing Ron to jerk back quickly, searching her eyes for clues as to what he’d done wrong.  

“Don’t apologize anymore, all right,” she said firmly, as they locked eyes.   

“Well,” Ron hesitated. “I _am_ sorry, Hermione. I’m going to be sorry for the rest of my life!”   

“No, Ron. Don’t you see? You’ve said it yourself, they are trying to come between us, and if you let this hang over us then they will have succeeded.” Hermione caressed his cheek again. “People are playing with our lives and I hate it!” she said, with an angry sigh. “While you were still at work this evening, I had plenty of time to reflect, well brood rather, and I imagined all sorts of terrible things that _could_ have happened,” she whispered, looking away from him sadly.  

“I thought about what would have happened if you had actually…you know…gone all the way with her.” Now it was Ron’s turn to look away. “What if she would have gotten pregnant? Or if—”  

“Hermione! Stop, don’t do this to yourself…to us,” he pleaded.  

“No, Ron, I’m not trying to drive myself crazy or anything. I’m simply trying to tell you where my mind was,” she sniffed. “I was imagining the worse case scenario and it would have been for that woman to carry your child.” She swallowed, and a thick tear bubbled out of her eye. “My point is, even if that had happened, I would never want you to leave! Never!” she said, and both her hands were on his face now as a tear slipped from his eye too.   

“Don’t ever ask me that again, all right?” Ron nodded mutely. “All right?” she reiterated, with a little squeeze to his face.   

“Yes,” Ron mumbled.   

“Don’t you see? I had imagined the worse thing possible, and I still wouldn’t have wanted you to leave. We would have figured it out because no one can break our bond, do you understand? Nothing can break us!” Ron nodded again, as tears streaked both their faces now.  

“Say it!” Hermione demanded with intense eyes. “Say, nothing can break us!”  

“Nothing can break us!” Ron hissed out intently, before burying his head in the curve of her neck. He struggled to fight the onslaught of an agonizing wail caught deep in his throat. Hermione hugged him to her tightly, and stroked his back.  

“What is it?” she asked gently, with an intuition that was beginning to scare Ron a bit. “Something more is bothering you.”  

“It’s…just…” Ron began, still muffled in her neck. “…you said I shouldn’t apologize anymore…but I feel so…guilty,” he stopped, and gave a huge sniff. “I can’t help it, you were so angry and so hurt, I know you still are…and I know some of it is with me.” He sniffed again. “Don’t bury it, love…just be angry with me if you must…I can take it.”Hermione squeezed him tighter and gave a sniff of her own.   

“Ron, look at me.” His head rose slightly, and he let her see his wet face. No sense in hiding it now, he’d been crying in front of her for years now. All the same, he wiped his face quickly.   

“Yes, I was…am angry, and hurt but…it was never about what _you_ did. I know my words in the bathroom were harsh but…”she sighed, seeming to be frustrated that she couldn’t express herself properly. “…close your eyes,” she whispered, and he did it instantly.  

“Picture a man…someone you really dislike.” Ron immediately got an image of Gunther Douglas’ stout form in his mind. “Now imagine that you’ve walked in and found me on my knees pleasuring him.”  

“Fuck!” Ron shouted, and rolled off of her instantly, his hands clapped over his face. “Merlin, Hermione!” he groaned, that had been a god-awful vision.   

“Do you understand now?” Hermione asked mildly, from beside him. Ron took several calming breaths before he spoke.  

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It was never about what I did…never really about me not being able to tell the difference between you and an imposter…it was really about someone else…touching me.” He pulled his hands away from his face and chanced a glance at her. She was propped up on her elbow, looking down on him and nodding.  

“You may think you’ve cornered the market on jealousy, but you haven’t. It makes me crazy to think of someone else being with you. I…I… really wanted to… kill her,” Hermione whispered, and it rang so true to Ron that it scared him. He quickly pulled her into his arms.  

“I know what you mean,” Ron whispered. “I nearly killed Douglas tonight because he merely implied that he would do something sexual with you.”   

Hermione snorted. “We’re a fantastic murderous pair, aren’t we?”  

Ron chuckled into her hair, as he looked at the clock. It was a quarter to ten. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in bed holding his wife at this time of the night. Actually, he could, and it had been the night Harry had attacked Ginny. That had been roughly a month ago. Hell, he hadn’t made love to her since then either. This became quite obvious as Hermione snuggled closer, and her leg brushed over the front of his pyjamas.   

Their eyes locked as Ron’s cock sprang to life, and then it became a race to see who could get naked first. Ron fumbled and kicked, trying to get his bottoms off, and Hermione seemed to be tangled in the arms of her opened dressing gown. She finally gave up as Ron, now completely starkers, sucked one of her heavenly breasts into his mouth.   

He groaned as soon as his lips touched her skin, causing Hermione to claw at his back. She wanted him inside her, and Ron knew this. She was often the impatient one when they had been away from each other for a while. Before he could give her other breast equal attention, Hermione reached down and firmly grabbed his cock. He was so hard he feared he’d come before he’d even get inside of her.  

“In me…now!” she panted, and wrapped her legs around his waist. Ron responded instantly, shifting his body and ramming himself home in one swift movement. Their harmonizing moans vibrated the walls as he began to move swiftly.   

“This…isn’t…going…to… last…long,” he panted. “Sorry,” Ron growled into her neck, knowing that he only had a dozen or so thrusts left in him before he was a goner.   

“Good,” Hermione moaned, and began to grind against him earnestly.   

God, it felt like years since Ron had felt how warm, soft, and wet she could be. He could feel Hermione trembling under him as he drove into her slick center. They were like two wild animals mating in the jungle. Ron was desperately kissing, touching, and biting every bit of flesh available to him, while Hermione was frantically groping his buttocks, back, or anything she could get her hands on, just to keep him applying pressure to her swollen nub. She always acted like this, Ron mused, when she was desperate for quick release.   

Not three thrusts later, Hermione was wailing and quivering against a powerful orgasm, pulling him right along with her. Every moan carried with it a deep plunge until Ron had emptied himself completely. God, he felt like his body would never stop throbbing. With a final kiss to his wife, Ron rolled off, and collapsed beside her.   

“I’m never moving from this spot,” he panted, Hermione chuckled.   

“Well, not for another ten minutes, at least,” she murmured.  Ron’s head rose from the pillow to get better look at her. “What’s happening in ten minutes?” She quirked an eyebrow and Ron knew she wanted to have another go. “Give me twenty love…I don’t think I’ll be able to make my legs work now if someone gave me a million Galleons,” he sighed.   

Tap, tap, tap. Ron heard the faint sound against the bedroom window. He sat up little and spotted the snowy owl immediately.   

“Hedwig!” he shouted, and in an instant, he was out of the bed and racing to the window, completely forgetting his fatigue. Something was wrong, and Ron knew it with every fiber of his being. His fingers trembled as he untied the note and quickly opened it. A photograph fell to the floor, but Ron was too eager to read, so Hermione picked it up.              

_Ron,_

_If you are reading this, I’ve found him! I’ve found Harry! Sadly, if you are reading this, I’ve h_ _ad any luck convincing him to come home and I need your help. I’ve enclosed a photo of where we are. Come as soon as you can._

_Ginny_    

Ron quickly snatched the photo out of Hermione’s hand and she did the same with the letter. Something in his heart was telling him that they were in trouble. The events of earlier had him spooked, and he knew something was about to explode soon.    

“I’ve got to go, something’s wrong!” Ron shouted, dropping the photograph, having thoroughly memorized it.   

“How do you know?”   

“Soph—er…Teagarden, said that they had been watching us constantly. If Ginny found Harry, it’s not hard to imagine that Lestrange was probably watching her when she did,” Ron said rapidly, nearly sick with worry and guilt that he didn’t go to his sister straight away and make sure she was safe. Fuck! He could have sent a few Aurors to watch her, anything, but all he was thinking of was getting to Hermione. If something happened to Ginny… _Don’t think of that! Just go!_ Ron barked to himself.  

“I’m coming with you!” Hermione stated, interrupting Ron’s thoughts, and her voice implied she would accept no argument. He didn’t have time for one anyway, his stomach was churning with fear.   

“Fine, be quick about it!” he said, already pulling on his jeans.   

“I need ten minutes beca—”  

“WHAT?” Ron roared. “You haven’t got ten bloody minutes! You’ve got thirty seconds!” he shouted incredulously, and bit back a comment about Hermione and her common sense again, for he certainly didn’t have time for _that_ argument. Her eyes went wide at his tone.   

“I’ve got to get the potion!” she said, through tight lips, and Ron felt rather ashamed of his earlier assessment of her.   

“It’s going to take you ten minutes to get the potion?” he asked, now fully dressed. He was at least pleased to see that Hermione was almost dressed as well. She fumbled with her jeans as she spoke.   

“That powder I had in my office earlier, it’s highly combustible and I need to add it in a stable environment and—"  

“So add it! Why should that take ten minutes? And why are you just adding it now? ”  

“Stop interrupting me!” she shouted furiously. “I need to add it right before I use it, as it will only be viable for thirty minutes.” Hermione glared at him, and Ron knew his impatience was going to drive her insane.   

“Just go, Ron!” she rolled her eyes. “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.” Ron paused, he didn’t want to wait, but he didn’t want her showing up alone.   

With his jaw tight, he agreed. They raced from their bedroom, and split in different directions, Hermione to the guest bedroom where she kept the potion and Ron to the front door so he could Apparate. Instantly, they both halted, and ran back to each other, kissing ferociously. After rapidly pleading with each other to be safe, they parted. It seemed they both had a bad feeling about what they would find when they got to their destination.   

*****  

 

 Ginny’s heart thumped wildly in her chest as she watched her husband take another menacing step toward her. His evil red eyes fixed on her with terrifying pleasure laced in them. She would soon run out of space, she knew, as she was steadily backing up toward the other end of the cabin.   

“KILL HER!” Isabella screamed again, causing Harry to move forward even more.   

“Fight it, Harry. You must! Please!” Ginny wailed, now with her back against the wall, she had no place to go. Frantically, she cast around for something she could use to stop him, something she could hurt him with, but not too severely.   

“KILL HER!” Isabella shouted again madly, now at Harry’s shoulder. “KILL HER NOW, DAMN IT!” She gave Harry’s shoulder a hard shove.  

“SHUT UP!” Harry barked, and whirled around, backhanding Isabella with a blow so powerful it swung her to the floor. The stunned woman spat out a wad of blood that Ginny was certain contained at least three teeth.   

“Wha…what are you doing?” she gurgled, with a mouth full of blood. Harry hung over her like a predator ready pounce on its prey. _All right,_ Ginny thought shrilly, _he’s done something violent, he should vomit now and this will be over, if everything Hermione said was correct_. But Harry merely crouched down and pulled a wide eyed Isabella to her feet by her throat. The muscles in his arms rippled as he slammed her against the wall.   

“Stop it!” she choked.  

“I don’t think you are in any position to give orders,” Harry said coldly. If Ginny hadn’t been looking at him as he’d said it, she would have never thought the voice was his. Though there had been no physical change, he was becoming utterly unrecognizable right before her eyes.  

Isabella was gasping for breath as Harry’s other hand joined the one already on her throat, and together they squeezed. The pale woman made a feeble attempt to aim her wand at him. Harry quickly removed both his hands from her throat, only to snatch the wand from her and snap it in half, then toss the pieces to the floor.   

“What are you going to do now?” he asked her with an evil smirk, and Isabella’s eyes began to swim with tears.   

“You’re going to cry? That’s the best you’ve got?  You’ve been planning this for who knows how long and tears are all you can give me? Pathetic! This is what you wanted isn’t it?” Harry taunted her as he stepped back and opened his arms as if to say, _look at me, I’m magnificent!_ The dark-haired woman shook her head, weakly, tears streaming from her eyes now.   

“Hel…help me,” she whispered, and locked eyes with Ginny, causing hers to go round with surprise.   

“You…you created this monster to kill _me_ , and now you want my help? What made you think you could control him?” Ginny shouted, scared beyond any measure she ever thought possible. “You better pray he vomits soon!” she said, and Isabella’s face became stricken with panic. Ginny almost cried with her, because that one expression told her all she needed to know. Whatever the unstable woman had given Harry had been improved, and he was not about to vomit anytime soon, if at all.    

Harry glanced over his shoulder, and his red eyes locked on his wife’s brown ones briefly before turning back to Isabella.   

“She makes a good point you know,” he laughed, and the sound made Ginny clamp her hands over her ears, for it was pure evil. “What made you think you could control me? Guess you need to work on that plan a bit more, but seeing as you have less than…” he made a show of looking at his wrist, which held no watch “…two seconds to live, perhaps you’ll have better luck in the afterlife.” He laughed again.   

“But…but we were supposed to…to rule together. You need a…a queen,” the insane woman moaned. Harry really did laugh then.  

“Oh, I’ll have a queen…but it won’t be you.” He glared at her for a second before looking back at Ginny and blowing a kiss to her, which made Ginny cringe.   

Isabella’s eyes went wide. “ _STILL_?” she screeched, “STILL YOU WANT HER?”  

 Harry chuckled. “What can I say…I’m partial to red-heads.” He shrugged, and laughed again. If Ginny hadn’t been terrified within an inch of her life, she might have been flattered that no matter what Harry’s mental state was he wanted only her, but it was not comforting in the least.   

With a wild maniacal scream, Isabella charged him. Soon there was a blur of black hair and flailing arms attacking Harry. She was no match for him, however. In all the confusion, Ginny didn’t see what Harry had done to send Isabella sailing into the wall, but she was certain that the woman was hurt as she slumped to the floor moaning loudly. With a strong foot, Harry kicked the wounded Isabella in the stomach, causing her to scream and curl in on herself. As he hovered over her, looking as though he was trying to find a new place to cause her pain, Ginny took the opportunity to sneak over to the satchel and grab Harry’s wand.   

Just as he was lifting Isabella off the floor by her neck, Ginny aimed the wand at his back and shouted, “STUPIFY!” The spell shot out of the wand and hit Harry square in the back, then rippled around him and disappeared. Ginny’s hand shook fiercely as she tried again, and again to no avail.   

Harry peered over his shoulder at her. “You wait your turn!” The corner of his mouth rose in a wicked grin and Ginny nearly dropped the wand, she was so frightened. Harry’s hands were wrapped around Isabella’s throat again, and the woman was rapidly losing what little colour she had. Ginny needed to do something! She was nearly paralyzed with fear, but she couldn’t stand there and watch her husband become a murderer.   

With a quickened heartbeat, Ginny dropped the wand, placed a hand on her stomach, and prayed nothing would happen to her unborn child as she took off at a run and leapt onto Harry’s back. Grabbing at any available flesh she could find, Ginny tried to inflict enough pain to get Harry off that idiot woman. If it weren’t for the fact that she knew Harry would never be himself again if she allowed him to commit murder, she’d let him choke the life out of the barking mad bitch.   

Unfortunately, nothing she was doing seemed to be causing Harry any sort of pain, and she had even scratched his face, bit his shoulder, poked him in the eyes, and punched him repeatedly in the back of his head. He merely reacted to her attempts as though she was a rather irritating insect buzzing around his head.   

Thinking quickly, Ginny jumped down off of his back, and with a strong deliberate movement, kicked Harry square between the legs. She instantly knew she’d been successful, for he let go of his victim and both his hands flew to his crotch. Isabella slumped to the floor in a dead faint as Ginny cringed at Harry’s howl of pain. She’d never in a million years want to do anything to damage him _there_ : in her eyes, it would be a crime, but he needed to be stopped. Ginny only prayed that she didn’t do too much damage to it, as she would surely need it again if they ever got him back to normal.   

Harry turned slowly, still crouching over and cupping his genitals. His fiery red eyes burned into her as he pulled himself up with agonizing deliberation. Ginny took several steps back; she had not slowed him as much as she’d wished. It seemed she had merely pulled his attention from Isabella to herself.   

“You bitch!” he spat, and took a menacing step toward Ginny, causing her to take even more steps backward. “I didn’t want to kill you, but now I think it might be fun!” He took another step, but before he could get any closer, the front door swung open and Ron framed the entrance like a beacon hope to Ginny.   

“Ron!” she screamed, and wanted to run to her brother and wrap her arms around him, however, Ron looked as if he was momentarily paralyzed as his eyes took in the scene. Before he seemed to fully wrap his mind around what must’ve happened, Harry was on him.   

Ron struggled to aim his wand at Harry as Ginny flitted out of the way of the two fighting men. Harry grabbed Ron’s wand and threw it over his shoulder. It skidded to a halt on the other side of the cabin. Ginny didn’t bother to retrieve it, as it would do no good. Ron punched Harry in the throat and caused him to stumble back gasping for breath, but a second later he was on Ron again. It seemed nothing he did kept Harry at bay for longer than a few seconds.   

Ginny knew at this rate, Ron would not last much longer. Harry seemed to have a bottomless vault of energy and although the two men had only been fighting for no more than a few minutes, it seemed like hours. Ginny scampered out of the way, feeling helpless as Ron and Harry threw each other around the rickety old cabin, shattering things as they went. A blood curdling scream ripped from Ginny’s throat as she watched her husband pick up a chair and smash it over Ron’s head. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor. Ginny rushed to him, only to be violently shoved aside by Harry.   

“Wait your turn, I told you!” he growled, and Ginny knew he’d keep to his promise to kill her.   

She wanted to run, to flee, and she knew she could, for Harry was certainly preoccupied. There would be nothing stopping her from Apparating to safety…nothing except for her brother. As she locked eyes with Ron, her mind was set. If he was going to die tonight then so was she!   

Ginny watched, transfixed, as Harry pulled Ron to his feet with a strength she knew was infused by that evil potion. His hands were now wrapped tightly around Ron’s throat and squeezing the very will to live out of the man he’d called a brother. Ron feebly made to pull Harry’s hands away from his neck, but he was far too weak, and his hand dropped to his side dejectedly.   

It was up to Ginny now, and she had just made the most sickeningly difficult decision she’d ever made, or would ever make, in her life. Crawling past them, Ginny picked up Harry’s discarded wand and grabbed a dirty spoon. With trembling hands, she transfigured it into the sharpest knife she could muster. Wobbling terribly, Ginny got to her feet. She saw her brother’s eyes widen as he watched her stalk up behind her husband with a sharp knife held high above her head ready to plunge it in his back.   

Ginny’s vision was blurred behind the magnitude of her tears. Her chest heaved as sobs racked her body when the realization hit her that she had no idea where she could stab him to incapacitate him without ending his life. However, as she saw Ron’s lips turning a ghostly grayish-blue color, she knew it was now or never. As she raised the knife with unstable hands, ready to plunge it into Harry’s back, Hermione burst through the door.   

Ginny simply sagged to the floor, and let out a wail of a cry, doubling over with the weight of her tears. She sniffed and looked up at Hermione, ready to beg her forgiveness for being too weak to stop Harry from killing her husband, when she saw that Hermione was carrying three black phials.   

Before Ginny could ask, Hermione hurled one of the phials at the pair of men, but in a blur of speed, Harry released Ron’s throat and caught the potion in mid air. Ginny screamed. Yes, Hermione had two more, but the element of surprise was gone and now it would probably be easier to get Harry to take the potion with tea and biscuits than it would be to force it in him. He turned an evil glare onto Hermione, as Ron took this opportunity to gasp for air, rapidly bringing his colour back.   

“Don’t you know by now, I’m faster than he is!” Harry bit out, then threw the phial to the floor violently, causing it to shatter at his feet.   

“I wasn’t throwing it to _Ron_ ,” Hermione said with a quiver, and Ginny saw the determination in her eyes a split second before the shattered potion began to smoke. Realization hit Harry’s face instantly, as he knew he had just done exactly what Hermione wanted him to do.   

Two narrow funnels of black smoke weaved and swirled up from the floor aiming straight for Harry. He stepped back quickly, but the tiny black tornados followed, and then in a snap, they flew straight up his nose. Harry stumbled back snorting and grunting, trying to blow the soot out of his nostrils.   

He looked up, and the glare he fixed on Hermione made her face turn as white as a sheet. It wasn’t working! Before Harry could set out to do whatever horrible thing he was intent on doing to his other best friend, Ginny scrambled to her feet, grabbed the remaining two phials from Hermione’s terrified hands, and threw them at Harry’s feet. This time, four black funnels of smoke rose from the broken glass and within seconds had shot up Harry’s nose. He arched back violently gasping for breath, then he leaned forward clutching his throat and Ginny wanted to scream, for he looked so frightened and helpless. He gave a great cough and black ash shot out of his mouth, then a wisp of red vapor followed before he keeled forward and fell to the floor unmoving.   

The room was in a stunned silence as the three of them looked at Harry in disbelieving horror. Ginny was the first to move, but Ron quickly pulled her away and turned Harry over. His mouth and nose were covered in black soot, making him look as though he’d been caught in a fire.   

“Is…is he all right?” Ginny asked, wringing her hands.   

“I…I don’t know,” Ron whispered hoarsely; Harry’s finger marks remarkably noticeable on his throat now. “What was that potion supposed to do, Hermione?” he asked, but Hermione seemed to have gone into shock as she gaped, pale faced at the unconscious Harry. Ron quickly got to his feet, retrieved his wand from the other side of the cabin, and grabbed a plate out of the basket by the fire. Ginny hazily heard him make a Portkey out of it and shove it in Hermione’s hand, then force her to the floor bedside Harry’s limp form.   

“That’s going to activate in one minute, hold onto it Gin, and make sure it’s touching Harry. It’ll take you to St. Mungo’s. I’m going to take her to the Ministry,” Ron indicated the unconscious Isabella Lestrange over in the corner.   

Ginny quickly grabbed the plate and sat it on Harry’s bare chest with Hermione’s hand still clutching it. Shortly thereafter, she felt the tugging behind her navel as they were wrenched away.    

*****   

“You lied to me,” Chief Weinpret said, rather casually to an extremely agitated Ronald Weasley. It had only been one day since the incident at the cabin and Ron had been forced to tell his Chief all that had transpired over the last month. As much as Ron wanted to plead his case, his mind was on Harry, for he was still unconscious and showing no signs of being able to breathe on his own.   

“I asked you flat out if you knew something, and you said that you did not,” Weinpret continued slowly.   

“Yes, Sir,” Ron responded, not knowing what else to say.  “You withheld vital information, you mislead an official investigation…” The Chief looked over a parchment which Ron gathered contained the long list of his violations. “…you assaulted a fellow Auror… _twice_ , AND you Obliviated a witness!” Weinpret glared up at Ron from his seat behind his desk.   

“Yes, Sir.” Ron clenched his jaw. This was not like the chief at all. He usually got straight to the point. There was no need to rehash Ron’s rampant list of infractions, he simply needed to get on with the sacking and be done with it. He watched as the Chief pinched the bridge of his nose, and ran a weary hand across his forehead. The man never fidgeted, so Ron he surmised that what he was about to say was not going to be good.  

“Weasley…what the hell were you thinking?” Ron gaped at him for a second, not expecting the question.   

“Protect Harry, Sir, that’s all I was thinking” he answered. Weinpret fixed him with a curious glare.  

“I understand that you two are mates, but…”  

“No Sir, Harry’s my…brother, and as I said before, nothing comes before my family,” Ron’s eyes were intense as he said this. The Chief sighed, then stood slowly and walked around to the front of his desk, leaving only a yard or so between them.   

“You’ve put me and this department in a terrible position. If given the choice, I’d merely turn a blind eye to it all rather than lose two great Aurors such as you and Potter, but it is not only up to me,” he paused and rubbed the back of his neck.   

“I like you, Weasley. You’re smart, thorough, competent, a hard worker, and you’ve got great instincts.”  

“Thank you, Sir,” Ron said hesitantly, not really sure where this was headed.   

“Unfortunately, the fact that I’d rather have one of you as opposed to ten of Douglas, does me no good when you are incapable of following protocol. While I’m pretty certain that you are only that way with people you care about, the Ministry is forcing me to implement some disciplinary action,” the Chief said with a sigh.   

“They wanted you sacked, at Douglas’ request of course. Wanted to make it appear that you resigned of your own choice, since they didn’t want to seem as if they were ungrateful for all you did in the war, not to mention that you actually caught the person behind the red Dark Mark. But I flat out refused to do that.” He looked intense, as if he was reliving the conversation with the Ministry in his head.   

“I only had a leg to stand on because no one knows about what really happened with Mr. Kadigen...” Ron’s mouth fell open, he was certain that the Chief had shared the full report with the Ministry. “…otherwise, you may have been looking at a few months in Azkaban, along with Potter…should he recover.” Ron winced at that statement, but as quickly as he could, he pushed it out of his mind. Weinpret folded his arms over his chest, and gave a great sigh.   

“So here it is; you will be suspended for ninety days without pay.” Ron gulped, three whole months with no wages!   

“And upon your return, you will be demoted to an Auror second level…for a full year.” Ron winced at that as well, seeing as he was currently an Auror Third Level and just about to make Level Four.   

“I’m sorry, I need your communicator. You’ll get it back when you return at the end of your suspension,” he finished, with a firm pat to Ron’s shoulder. Ron made an awkward movement and detached his medallion then handed it over, leaving his neck feeling quite bare.   

“You’re dismissed,” the Chief said, quietly.   Ron was nearly insane as he pulled himself from the office. His head was swimming with a jumble of words, frightened expressions, and mixed emotions. He had been up all night interrogating Lestrange and talking to Ginny, so he was now fully aware of what had transpired at the cabin before he got there.   

Lestrange explained her twisted plan to make Harry the new Dark Lord, and nearly made Ron vomit with her rather calm veneer now that she was not afraid that Harry was going to kill her. She admitted that the potion was still not one hundred percent complete in its effectiveness obviously, because Harry had tried to kill _her_ , but she had improved it enough to keep him from regurgitating it. Ron prayed that the red vapor they saw escape Harry’s mouth was the poison leaving him, but only time would tell.   

Three months! Ron moaned to himself, what on earth would he do to keep himself sane for that long? God, he was humiliated, _but_ he could be in Azkaban, so he resolved to himself that this was not important, he began to chant that in his head. He’d make it for ninety days without a salary. He’d make it for a year on a reduced salary. He would be okay, he thought, as he swallowed thickly. The only thing that mattered now was that they had saved Harry…at leas, he hoped they had. And with that thought, he made his way to St Mungo’s.    

*****   

Something or someone was sitting on his chest. With a heavy arm, Harry reached up and slowly ran his hand across his torso…nothing. Something had to have been causing his shortness of breath, he thought as his eyes opened slowly, confirming that nothing was on him. His vision was blurred, he knew from his glasses being somewhere else. As his hand ran over his face, he felt a hard shell of some sort covering his mouth and nose.   

With a hazy determination, Harry wrenched the apparatus away from his mouth and nose, and was instantly sorry. With a great inhale, it felt as if he’d just sucked down a mouthful of ash, sand, and smoke. His body racked with the force of his coughing fit, and he couldn’t stop long enough to get the apparatus back on his face.   

Suddenly a strong hand gripped the back of his head as another one clamped the clear mask back on his face. Harry’s eyes opened and rolled to his left to see a terrified looking Ron, holding the breathing contraption securely over his face.   

“You have to keep that on, mate,” Ron whispered urgently.   

Harry took great gulping inhales and his lungs seemed to regain proper function. Another hand was now before him and his glasses were hooked over his ears bringing his wife’s lovely face in to clear view. Ginny sat on the right side of the bed, gazing down at him with a mixture of relief, worry and sadness marring her beautiful features.   

He flopped back to his pillow and looked down at himself. The clear shell covering his mouth and nose was obviously there to keep him from choking to death, judging from what had just happened. A blue mist swirled through it and gave off a sugary smell and taste. While Harry could remember mostly everything that happened, it still didn’t really explain why he was in the hospital with this contraption on his face.   

“What…” he coughed and his voice echoed through the mask in an odd hollow whisper. “…happened?” he wheezed. Harry didn’t miss the look that Ron shot at Ginny, but her eyes remained downcast as if she was incapable of looking at her brother.   

“You…you don’t remember, mate?” Ron asked, hesitantly.  

“Yes…” Harry hissed with difficulty. “…but…why…am…I…here?” he sighed exhaustedly, after the brief sentence.   

“Well, you still need help breathing,” Ginny answered. “The poison and…the antidote have…have affected your lungs,” she said, sadly. “I may have given you too much…I’m sorry…”  

“The Healers don’t think that, Gin,” Ron said, giving Ginny a comforting look, but she still would not meet his eyes. Harry squeezed her hand and she gave him a weary smile.  

“How…long…” Harry began, but Ron seemed to want to spare him the effort and answered the obvious question.  “Nine days. You’ve been out for nine days,” Ron said, looking a bit paler.   

Harry sank back even more into his pillow, and looked up at the ceiling. Nine days wasn’t so bad, it could have been nine years, he thought wryly. Now that he was taking deeper breaths, he was feeling a bit better. They were all safe and…wait…where was Hermione? Harry looked at the stricken faces of his wife and best mate.   

“Her…mi…o…ne?” Harry wheezed, looking between the two. Ron seemed a bit more worried, while Ginny appeared to withdraw slightly. Oh God! Harry shouted in his head. “Did…I…hurt…her?” He panted, thickly.  

“No, mate, she’s over there.” Ron gently jerked his head toward the corner and Harry sat up to get a better look at Hermione in the corner. She was deathly pale and looked to have lost a good bit of weight.   

Her eyes rounded as they locked on Harry’s, and he wondered why she was sitting all the way across the room. He racked his brain for something he had done to her to make her frightened of him. Of course, everything he had done in that cabin warranted fear from his loved ones, but he could think of nothing in particular that involved Hermione. Then Harry’s heart sank as he realized she probably hated him for nearly killing Ron. He raised an ashen hand and beckoned her to him, she merely lowered her head and began to sob.  

“Tell…her…I’m…sorry…” he gasped.  

“It’s not you, mate, honestly.” Ron dipped his head and whispered to Harry. “She blames herself. If…if you have to wear this…this thing forever, she’s the one that made the potion.” Ron swallowed thickly. “I’ve been trying to talk some sense into her, but she barely eats, or sleeps, all she does is try to find a better potion, something that will help you breath normally again.” Harry sat up completely.   

“Hermione!” he shouted, and paid dearly for it as he was attacked with a fit of coughing. This only made her curl in on herself and hide her face. When Harry’s breathing had settled, he said to Ron, “Go…get…her.”   

Ron stood and walked over to the corner of the room, then half dragged, half carried Hermione to Harry’s bedside. All it took was for him to reach out and grab her hand before she fairly collapsed on top of him and wailed inconsolably. Harry fixed Ron with a startled expression, and Ron merely threw his hands in the air.  

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” she sobbed, with a loud hiccup. Harry attempted to speak to her, tell her that she had nothing to apologize for, tell her that he was grateful and that he loved her. And that if he needed to wear this stupid thing for the rest of his life, he would do so gladly, as long as it meant the people he loved were safe.   

It would be a constant reminder to him that he had not been turned into the new Dark Lord, and that, he could live with. But Hermione had gone into a crazed ramble, explaining how sorry she was, and how she was working on something to help him, and that she would never stop until she came up with something.  

Harry grabbed her shoulders and gently pried her off his chest, then he smoothed away the curly strands of hair clinging to her face. He held her teary gaze for a moment, and then he wheezed, “Thank…you.” Hermione’s chin began to quiver and she shook her head.   

“I’m…not…angry,” he said. Still, she looked as though she wanted to drown herself in a bucket of her own tears. Harry thought, perhaps if he made her laugh, she would know that he was truly grateful for whatever it was that potion had in it.   

“I…don’t…blame…you…sugar…knockers,” Harry wheezed with a wide smile, as Ron burst into laughter, but Hermione, simply gaped at him. Perhaps she was not in the mood for a joke just yet. Fortunately, Ron saved him.   

“Come on.” He hooked Hermione around the waist. “Let’s go have some tea and I’ll explain that what Harry did there was called a joke,” he chuckled as he dragged Hermione from the room, though her eyes remained locked on Harry’s until she had stepped into the corridor.   

It quickly fell silent as Harry’s attention was brought back to his wife. He became suddenly aware that the bed was vibrating slightly. It didn’t take long for him to discern that it was from Ginny’s trembling body. Seated on the edge of the bed, Ginny seemed near the point of combustion as she held in whatever it was that was troubling her. Harry knew it went beyond simple fear that he’d have to were this silly breathing apparatus for the rest of his life, because if he had anything to do about it, he’d have it off in a week. No, something more was troubling Ginny, and a sudden realization had Harry nearly passing out as a crippling fear washed over him. Quickly he reached out and grabbed her hand. She moved away from him, stood up quickly and began pacing beside the bed.   

“Gin…” Harry wheezed, in a desperate whinge. He wanted to ask, had to know, but he could possibly go the rest of his life never asking this question. “Is…it…the…baby?” he panted, and it was more than because of the issue with his lungs. As distraught as she seemed to be, Harry distinctly saw her shake her head. She stopped pacing, pale faced and eyes flooded with tears. Harry reached out for her, hoping that she would sit with him and tell him what was wrong. The baby was okay, Ron and Hermione were all right…so what had he done?   

“I…don’t…care…about…the…bloody…potion,” he panted, knowing that she probably felt just as responsible as Hermione.   

“Gin…please…tell…me,” he gasped, and tried to extract the information from her before he suffered an attack of nerves. Ginny sat again, looked at him briefly, but quickly dropped her head, and whimpered into his chest. Harry decided that he couldn’t force her. She would have to calm herself and tell him when she was ready, so he merely rubbed her back and ran his fingers through her silky hair. After a few deep breaths, Ginny looked up at him with an extremely wet face and was utterly angelic in that moment to Harry.   

“It’s…all…right,” Harry whispered, and he gently thumbed the tears away from her face.   

“Wa…” Ginny choked out an unintelligible sound, then took a deep breath. “Whe—when we were in—in the cabin,” she sniffed. “I was…I almost…” The words seemed stuck in her throat as she gaped at Harry with an opened mouth. “I…I had a knife…” she keeled forward and sobbed into his chest. Harry was utterly confused, he had been awake for less than twenty minutes and he had been forced to console two weeping women. Before he could become too overwhelmed by this, Ginny’s head rose again and she seemed determined to get it out, then her eyes changed.  

“I’m sorry, I sh—shouldn’t be burdening you wi—with this nonsense, you’ve only just woken up…I should get the Healer.” She sniffed, and made to stand, but Harry squeezed her hand weakly, feeling a bit shocked that she seemed to have read his mind.  

“No…please…tell…me.”  Ginny looked away and seemed to be unable to meet his eyes, but after a loud sniff she said, “I had a knife…and I…I was going to…to…stab…you.” Again, her head slumped to his chest and she wailed. Harry was relieved. _Good_ , he thought. _She should have killed me_ , and he was almost happy that she was strong enough to do it. He would rather die than hurt someone he loved and he had nearly killed Ron.   

“Good…Gin…I’m…not…angry…you…did…the…right…thing,” he rasped, and gently pushed her back so he could look in her face. What he was met with nearly stopped his heart. Ginny’s face was torn in the most awful expression and seemed to be frozen in a state of sheer agony. She was beyond tears as her sorrow seemed to have paralyzed her. As their eyes locked on each other, Harry could see the truth so plainly that he wanted to close his eyes against it.   

The fact that he could know this woman, better than he sometimes knew himself was mind altering. For Ginny was not telling him that she was sorry that she could have killed him, she was telling him that she was sorry she _couldn’t_ kill him. She had chosen her husband over her brother, and the guilt, fear, and shame of it all was nearly causing her to come undone.   

Slowly she slumped forward, and gently rested her head on Harry’s shoulder, appearing to be fully aware that her husband knew what she was trying to say without her having to utter the words.   

“Please,” Ginny whispered, thickly. “Please, don’t ever tell him.”   

Harry nodded, slowly. If he had anything to do with it, Ron would never know. It would die with him. He held on to his wife, trying to keep them both from spiraling out of control. As much as he wanted to tell Ginny she should have plunged that knife into his back, and saved Ron or anyone else, how could he? He knew his wife well enough to know that although she complained about Ron, and they had rows that rivaled the ones he had with Hermione, she absolutely adored him.   

The guilt alone would eat at her for years to come, and he would not add to it. If he looked deep enough within himself, Harry would see a bit of happiness under the surface, hiding in a dark corner, for someone loved him enough to choose him, but just as quickly, the guilt pushed it further in the corner. No, Harry would never let that come out. He’d work with Ginny to help her let go of her guilt, and for the first time in his life, he resolved not to carry the guilt for things that were out of his control.      

*****

_Six months later…_   Ron sat on the edge of the bed lacing his trainers. They were old and tattered and even magic couldn’t really help them. He’d flat out refused to buy new ones when Hermione suggested it. It was bad enough that she’d carried the household finances for three months while he had no wages, he would not waste money on nonsense now.   

There had been another stipulation to his suspension that came about a few weeks later when he went to work at the Twin’s store. He was informed that he could not hold down another job while on suspension. Some malarkey about still being employed as an Auror for the Ministry of Magic forbids him from holding another position. When hired, he had signed an employment agreement attesting that he would be available 24 hours a day, and therefore could not take another job. In turn, Aurors were paid rather well to compensate for this. Ron knew that this was just another way to further punish him, though the Chief would never be that petty.   

Hermione made more than enough money to handle the bills, but Merlin, did it chip at his ego. Though Harry was still out on disability, and had received the same disciplinary action that Ron had received, it was not the same. Harry had tons of money and though the school didn’t bring in much, it still turned a small profit.   

Now that he was back at work, Ron hated being demoted. He had a new partner who was as dumb as a brick and as cowardly as Hagrid’s boarhound, Fang. His days were filled with frustration and each payday only made him angry when he saw his reduced wages.   

Ron looked up and saw Hermione watching him from the bathroom. She had a small, familiar bottle in her hand and she was fingering it pensively. Hesitantly, she uncorked it and drained the contents in one swallow. With a small grimace, she tossed the bottle in the rubbish bin and walked out of the bathroom.  

“All right, love?” Ron asked.  

“Yes,” Hermione nodded. “Actually, I was thinking of stopping my potion.” Ron gaped at her for a moment, trying to understand what she was really saying. His eyes went wide as soon as it became clear.  

“You want to have a baby?” Ron tried to close his mouth but he was simply gobsmacked.  

“Well, yes. Don’t you?”  

“Yes…but…but not now.” They stared at each other for a long moment, and he could see the sadness creep into her eyes. She had not been expecting him to answer that way. Slowly Hermione sat beside him on the bed and Ron put his arm around her waist, pulling her nearer.   

“Is this because Gin is pregnant?” he asked.  

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit envious, but it’s also that I’ve always thought we’d start around this age, you know, and I feel ready. Don’t you?”  

“It’s not as if I don’t want to, it’s just our vault has taken a large hit, and with all that just happened between us all, I just don’t know if it’s the right time.”  

“Ron, we have plenty of money to do this. Is it because I’m making more than you now? You know I don’t care about that.”  

“You may not care, but it bothers me that I’m not an equal partner in this relationship.”  

“Says who? You contribute plenty! It’s not as if you are a lay-about and _won’t_ work. What happened, happened and there is nothing we can do about it. We are far from destitute so…get over it!” she snapped. Ron’s head shot back as his eyes rounded at her tone.  

“Hermione, it’s not just that!” He stood and began pacing. “I want to be able to give our children all the things I never had growing up.”  

“Like what? Was your life so lacking that you feel as though you missed out on things? New books and new clothing? Those things mean nothing! As a matter of fact, I think I will be asking your mother to give me knitting lessons so I can start making you jumpers.” Hermione folded her arms over her chest defiantly. Ron stopped his pacing and looked at her, then he burst into laughter.   

“What are you laughing at?” she asked indignantly, and Ron flopped on the bed beside her.   

“You, _knitting_.” He continued to laugh. “The wooly bladders!” He laughed harder. Hermione pinched him severely causing him to scream out in pain. “Bloody hell, Hermione! You nearly ripped my skin off!” he said, with a mock dramatic grimace.  

 “Serves you right. I can knit just fine if I put my mind to it.”  

“Love, with a little practice, I’m sure you’d be able to knit an entire home.” He smiled up at her from his sprawled position on the bed.   

“So…” she looked down at him, the seriousness back on her face. “Are you saying no? Because if you are worried about money, don’t. If I were to get pregnant now, you’d be back at full pay by the time the baby was born. Besides, it will take at least a few weeks, maybe longer, to be off the potion before I’d get pregnant.”  

“Harry said Ginny was barely off the potion for a week and she got pregnant!” Ron sat up on his elbows and fixed her with an incredulous expression.   

“She’s a Weasley! She probably got pregnant the minute Harry sat beside her!”  

“Oi!” Ron grabbed a chuckling Hermione and pinned her to the bed. “Are you having a go at my family?” He tickled her sides.   

“No!” she squealed. “I’m just saying that the Grangers aren’t as fertile, so we won’t have to worry about that.” She smiled wide, seeming to know that Ron was not buying it.   

“That’s probably because your parents only shagged once!”  

“Hey! Now who’s having a go?” She pinched him again. This time Ron laughed.   

“I’m just saying, you and I go at it like bunnies, we’d be just like Harry and Gin.”  

“Is that so bad?” Hermione asked, looking suddenly sad. Ron dipped his head and pressed his lips to her gently.   

“No, love, it’s not bad at all.” He moved a curl from in front of her face and twirled it around his long finger. “I’m just…scared,” he whispered, feeling a weight lift the moment he admitted that. Hermione touched his face, softly.  

“I’m afraid too, Ron.”  

“I know…but I have the type of job that’s…well, it’s dangerous, and I want to be able to provide for my family should something ever happen to—” Hermione placed her hand over his mouth, and Ron gently pulled it away.   “I need to say this, love.” She nodded, and silently told him to continue. 

“My biggest fear is leaving you…you know that, and if I can help it, I never will. But I will feel like a failure as a man if something happens to me and I leave you without any support.” He stroked her cheek. “While it’s nice and romantic to think that all we need is love, the hard truth is, we need money too.” Ron paused for a moment and read her eyes. She looked sullen, although she seemed to be putting a valiant effort to hide it from him.   

“Love bug, I’m not saying never, okay?” He held her gaze. “I’m not even saying a year. Give me a few more months, that’s all. I just want to make sure we have a certain amount in our vault. Weinpret said at the end of my year’s demotion, he will reinstate me at a level four. So that will almost be double the wages I’m getting now.” Hermione nodded silently, but her eyes were misty.   

“Bollocks! I feel like I’m mucking this up! Please, love, you have to know that I’m not putting you off. Honestly I’m not. I’d love nothing more than to have loads of babies with you.” Hermione’s eyes went wide at the word, _loads_ , but Ron hardly noticed.   

“I know you are not going to like this, but the best way I can explain it is, it’s…it’s a man thing. I need—”  

“Ron, it’s okay.” Hermione had pressed two fingers to his lips. “Honest, it is. I’ve just been thinking about it lately, and I wanted to discuss it with you, and we have, so it’s all right.” Ron watched her for a moment, trying to see if she was being truthful with him.   

“I’m okay, Ron. Besides, in a few months, I’ll have thoroughly researched pregnancy and how to care for babies. And really, I’ll need that time to do a proper job of it,” Hermione said with a gleam in her eyes that Ron recognized, and he knew she was speaking the complete truth now.   

“So…the end of the summer?” Hermione asked, hesitantly. Ron smiled.  

“Yeah, the end of the summer sounds perfect.” They stared at each other for a long time. The decision was heavy, Ron knew, but it felt right. Though they would not be where he’d like to be financially in three months, they would be better than they are now and he would sleep a bit sounder for it.  

“You know,” Hermione began. “I’ve read that if we want to make it more successful, we should probably not make love for the next few months until we are trying to conceive,” she said, studiously.   

“WHAT?” Ron sat back and fixed her with terrified eyes. Hermione seemed unable to maintain her business-like expression, and burst into laughter.   

“Not funny at all!” Ron bit out, and began to tickle her once again.   

“Oh, I think it was quite funny. You looked like you were going to soil yourself!” she squealed, as he latched onto a particularly ticklish spot.  

“Now, I think we need some practice,” Ron said, and his hand was already pulling down the flies of her jeans.   

“No, I think we’ve got it well underhand by _nnnaahhmmm_ ….” Hermione’s word got caught in a moan as Ron’s hand delved deeper in her jeans. She was holding her breath now as his fingers did wicked things to her. 

“ _Wah_ …we have to be at… _haaa_ … Harry’s _fffor_ …lunch,” she moaned.  

“We’re bringing the food, they…will…wait.” Ron whispered hotly, then fairly attacked her.   

*****   

The sound of gravel crunching vibrated off the thick of trees as Harry’s feet pounded up the path. He ran hard and fast, and reached the clearing in a matter of minutes. Slowing to a brisk jog, Harry looked at his wristwatch. It had taken him only fourteen minutes this time to run the entire perimeter of Potter’s Cove. He took a few deep inhales letting the potion that swirled around the breathing apparatus fill his lungs.   

Though he was only required to wear the contraption one hour a day now, he often found that it helped to have it on when he worked out. The Healers had told him that he’d never be able to go more than twenty minutes without the breather, but Harry was having none of that.   

Within a month of coming home, Harry began to work to build up his lungs. He was determined to quench the guilty looks Hermione and Ginny flashed on him constantly.  Hermione had been tireless in her effort to find something to help him. About two months ago, she came over and hesitantly gave Harry a potion that she was certain would help him. He practically had to wrestle it out of her hands. Her fear of further damaging him made her quite reluctant to give him the potion. As with everything Hermione did, it was well made and had greatly helped. And that, in Harry’s opinion was the main reason he could practically go all day without wearing the mask.   

Stopping by the large shady tree at the back of Potter’s Cove, Harry stretched out his sweat drenched muscles and pulled off his soggy shirt. June had come in beautifully, and the smell of flowers was strong from the nearby garden. Harry could smell them clearly even through the sweet smell of the blue mist swirling before his mouth and nose.   

Taking a seat by the trunk of the massive tree, he sighed with a fatigued content on his face. He had come close to losing all of this, but he was not going to dwell on any of that. He was going to enjoy this beautiful Saturday afternoon, he thought as he folded his arms behind his head and leaned against the tree.   

His calm mood was suddenly interrupted as a scream ripped through the air and had Harry on his feet in a flash. Quickly he stepped around the large base of the tree and peered in the direction of the scream. His heart flooded with relief when he saw it was only Ethan, screaming, giggling and bounding down the hill like a runaway barrel, chasing a frightened Crup. Ginny walked at a much slower pace, as her rather round belly prevented anything else.   

She waved at Harry and it looked as if she had a letter in her hand. As she got closer, this was confirmed. Harry smiled as he watched her walk toward him. Her yellow sundress was tinted in the front due to her slightly pointed stomach, making her mother insist she that was having a boy. A bit winded by the time she got over to him, Ginny kissed Harry on the cheek and ran her hand over his buzzed head. He had liked the haircut she’d given him so much that he made Ginny trim it every two weeks.   

“Hey, luv,” she puffed. “Help me sit?” she asked, although it wasn’t necessary, as Harry doted on her nearly every waking moment. He guided her to the ground then sat beside her, and they both leaned against the tree. Silently, they sat for long moments, watching Ethan harass the poor Crup that Professor Marcus had entrusted in their care while he was on holiday. Harry knew Ethan’s rough play was going to get him nipped again.   

“Ethan!” Ginny called. “Not too close to the stream!”   

Ethan nodded and ran the other way. Then he seemed to realize that he hadn’t spoken to Harry yet so he did an about-face and ran full speed toward Harry. Realizing that he needed to protect himself, Harry quickly closed his legs as he had been rammed in the gonads by the overzealous child once before. Ethan careened into Harry’s chest and hugged him around the neck. Then he put his mouth right on the breathing apparatus and said, “HELLO UNCLE HARRY!”   

Harry chuckled as he pried the boy off his face. “Ethan, I told you, you don’t have to speak into the breather, I can hear you just fine.”  

“OKAY,” he yelled into the contraption again, and then ran off before Harry could say anything more. Harry shook his head, with a laugh.  

“He only does that because you always laugh,” Ginny said, as she watched Ethan with a dreamy sort of gaze on her face. While Harry was in the hospital, the Ministry’s Child Treatment Department removed Ethan from their home. With only moderate information coming out about who was behind the red Dark Marks, it was enough to raise questions about Harry’s involvement. The Department stated that it was standard practice to remove a child from the home while they investigated the care givers and searched for any relatives.   

Ginny had nearly died when she found out that Ethan was going to have to stay at an orphanage while the investigation was taking place. He could still attend school at Potter’s Cove, but every evening he had to return to the orphanage. Nothing Ginny did would make them go against their policy, so she had to wait until it was complete. Harry didn’t know what would happen to her if they found a relative. He half expected Ginny to run away with the boy, she had become so attached. Harry had as well, but he felt that Ethan should know his family if he had any. How he had wished he had some other family to call his own besides the Dursleys.   

Ginny’s head rested on Harry’s shoulder and he heard her sigh. She fingered the letter in her hand and Harry wondered what it was, but he decided to let her bring it up. No sooner than he had that thought, Ginny’s head rose from his shoulder.   

“Harry, can I talk to you?”  

“Of course.” He looked at her with concern. She handed him the letter.   

“What’s this?” Harry asked, as he opened the envelope and pulled out one of the two pieces of parchment inside.   

“Just read it and tell me what you see,” Ginny whispered.   

Harry unfolded the letter and the heading read: **_Family History of Ethan Avery Connors_**. His eyes rolled over the parchment once, looking at the unfamiliar names and wondering why Ginny wanted him to read it. Just as he was about to ask her this, his eyes moved over the paper once more, traveling up the many ladders of generations until he stopped on a name that was familiar to him. Belvina (Black) Burke. Harry swallowed hard. Having nearly memorized that tapestry hanging in Grimmauld Place, he knew that Belvina Black was one of Sirius’ distant relatives.   

Harry stood slowly, looking at the letter and then he turned and looked at Ginny. She watched him expectantly, but he hadn’t a clue what to say. What did she want him to do with this information? Harry turned and looked at Ethan, staring at him as if he expected to see some resemblance to Sirius, but that was ridiculous. His relation to the man was very distant, and he would bare no more of a resemblance to him than Mr. Weasley would.   

Harry looked at the parchment again and saw Chilton Synclair Connors with a line connecting it to Caroline (Dunkin) Connors, and then a short line under it with Ethan’s name connected. Though this was not a full genealogy of Ethan’s ancestry, it was his father’s blood that tied him to Sirius, and for some strange reason, Harry wanted to simply sit down and stare at Ethan. It was ridiculous, he’d never felt the need to sit and stare and Tonks, and she was Sirius’ cousins. Perhaps it was the dark hair and the fact that Ethan was a boy, but he felt something for the child.  

“Can we keep him?” Harry was jarred out of his thoughts by Ginny’s question, and was surprised to realize that he had taken a few steps toward Ethan, who was still playing by the stream.   

Harry turned to Ginny. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”  

“Can we keep him?” she repeated resolutely. Harry starred at her incredulously for a moment. This question had come up before, though never this bluntly. Harry had skirted around it, changing the subject or faking fatigue, anything to keep him from discussing what was gnawing at his insides. He would not be able to escape it today.   

“He’s not a puppy Gin, we can’t just… _keep him_ ,” He said before he even thought about it.  

“I know that!” she shouted. “But now that you see that he’s related to Sirius, I thought…”  

“You thought what?” Harry’s eyes rounded at her. “That’s not fair Ginny! Hell, you’re related to him too if you want to get technical about it!”   

“I know, Harry, and I’m sorry, that was low of me to play on your love for Sirius, but it’s true and it’s all the more reason for us to do this. The letter proves it; he has no one else that’s fit to care for him. All of his relatives are dead, in prison, or insane!” Ginny whinged, and Harry knew she was speaking of his distant relation to Belatrix and Isabella Lestange.  

“What about Caroline’s family?” Harry asked, but Ginny was already shaking her head as Harry pulled out the other letter, his hands trembling slightly.   

“The youngest living relative on her side is ninety-seven! Caroline was an only child, her mum and dad where only children and her grand mum has a sister that’s still alive, she’s far too old to run after him. I can barely do it.” Harry was silent for a while as he looked over the other genealogy chart.   

“I…I just can’t send him back to that place!” Ginny started again. “It’s horrid and he hates it! He told me he cries whenever he is there and it kills me!” she whimpered, and Harry moved immediately to console her. Sitting on the ground beside her, he pulled Ginny into his arms. His stomach churned with the weight of this decision.   

God only knows he had wished someone like he and Ginny would have come and rescued him from the Dursleys. And when he thought of how Tom Riddle had been raised in an orphanage, an icy fear ran down his spin. Ethan deserved better than that. He was a wonderful child, but…  

“Gin,” Harry whispered as he held her at arms length. “This is something that we can’t decide over night…”  

“Why?” Ginny whinged again. “He’s here five days a week as it is. All we would really be adding are the evenings and weekends. He’ll be no trouble, you know that. I’ll take care of everything, I promise.”  

“Ginny, you honestly think I wouldn’t want him living here because he’d be a bother? It’s not that…”  

“Well then, what is it?” she nearly shouted, and Harry felt as if his chest was constricting, but he knew he had to tell her what was causing his reservations. Slowly, he popped the breathing apparatus off his face and the blue mist vanished instantly. Harry swallowed hard.   

“Gin, what am I supposed to tell him…” he stopped, and Ginny remained silent, waiting for him to get out what it was that was eating at him. “…what am I to say to him when he asks…how his mum died?” The lump in his throat prevented him from continuing momentarily.  

“He _will_ ask you know, he’ll…he’ll want to know, and I’ll have to tell him…that…it was my fault…he’ll hate me, Gin…he will,” Harry finished, with quiet anguish. Though he had resolved not to take on guilt that did not belong to him, Harry was having a pretty hard time letting go of his guilt behind Caroline’s death. In fact, it ate at him every time he saw Ethan.   

“He won’t hate you, Harry.” Ginny reached up and held his face in her hands. “And when he asks, _we_ will tell him the truth…Isabelle Lestrange killed his mother. Not you, but an insane woman, with insane motives; nothing more, nothing less. He will not blame you.” Harry looked down sadly, and Ginny pulled him into her arms.   

“We have to do this, Harry, you know we do,” she whispered with a sob, and Harry nodded against her shoulder. Ginny pulled back, gently. “You have to be on board totally, Harry, this is not something that you can go about half-hearted. This is his life…our lives”   

“I know,” Harry sniffed. “I’ll…I’ll deal with my guilt in my own time, but I don’t want him to go back to the orphanage either.” Ginny’s body seemed to relax, but it was obvious that she was fighting off tears. She pulled him to her and kissed him on the mouth.  

“I love you,” she murmured against his lips.   

“I know,” he whispered in reply.  

“Hey! There’s a child present, cut it out!” Ron’s joyful voice called across the lawns and Harry looked up to see the tall red-head carrying a large picnic basket in one hand and holding Hermione’s hand with the other. He pulled her along, forcing her to keep in time with his long strides.   

“What’s going on?” Ron asked, as he seemed to take in the expressions on Harry’s and Ginny’s faces.   

“Nothing, we’ve…we’ve decided to keep Ethan here with us…permanently.” Ginny said, and Ron and Hermione stilled for a moment, then Hermione fell to her knees and hugged the sitting couple.   

“I knew you were going to do it!” she screeched. “I wondered what was taking you so long, but I didn’t want to ask because I knew it’s a tender subject.”  

“Well, we had to wait for them to follow their bloody procedures,” Ginny answered.   

“So they found no relatives?” Ron asked, as he began to unpack the picnic basket.   

“Well…” Ginny stopped as Harry squeezed her hand. “No, they didn’t,” she finished, seeming to know that her husband did not want her to talk about Ethan’s connection with Sirius just yet. He would tell them later, right now, he did not want delve into it, and he knew they’d have loads of questions.   

“UNCLE RON!” Ethan yelled, and came barreling into Ron, who picked him up and spun him around in the air.   

“Ron! You’ll make him sick!” Hermione scolded, and Ron placed a very dizzy Ethan on his feet.   

“Can I have some candy?” Ethan asked, and held out his little hand.   

“Sure!” Ron dug in the pocket of his jeans.  “No, not until you’ve had lunch.” Ginny stated firmly, causing a loud groan from the little boy. The minute Ginny’s attention was on something else, Ron slipped Ethan the sweet and told him to run off and eat it. Before he ran away, Hermione pulled him into a quick hug.   

“Hi Aunt Hum-ninny,” he said cheerfully, and ran over by the stream to sneak his candy.   

“Does he have a speech impediment?” Hermione asked, as the four of them began to situate lunch on a large blue blanket. Harry and Ginny looked at Hermione with great concern.  

“You think something is wrong with his speech?” Ginny asked, with worry evident in her voice.  

“Don’t pay her any attention,” Ron began, casually. “She only says that because he can’t pronounce _her_ name, as if it should just roll right off his tongue or something.” Ron snorted.  

“That is not the only reason.” Hermione glared at him.   

“Yes it is,” he said, and turned to Harry and Ginny. “She’s just upset because he called her Aunt _Hump-me_ the other day.” The roar of laughter was instant, all except for Hermione, who folded her arms and rolled her eyes at the group.   

Harry smiled at each of them, his family, which was about to increase by two and he found he quite liked that idea. Leaning back on the tree, Harry’s hand absently caressed Ginny’s belly, and the action probably relaxed him more than it did her.   

As he watched Ron and Hermione playfully bicker, and Ginny laugh at the couple, he looked over at Ethan playing in the grass, and finally realized what Ron was talking about all those months ago in his garden. _This_ is what they fought the war for, and if the need ever rose again, he _did_ have it in him to stand on the front lines and fight another war…because all of this was certainly worth saving.    

 

**~The End~**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**A/N:**

Well this is it! I hope you all enjoyed the ending as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Thank you all for reading, review and for making Bonded one of the Fan Favorites! I'm so grateful. I'll be submitting my new story, Transition, in a few weeks. It is the third in this universe and it is the story of Ron and Hermione's transition from friends to lovers. It will be a bit of, drama, humor, fluff and of course...smut! Come check it out! 

Last, but not least, THANK YOU to Jamie, the most awesome beta ever! I am so happy you chose my story because now I have a new friend! I look forward to working with you again and just simply getting to know you better! 

Till next time... 

Karen 


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